The Contents of a Silver Box
by MandyQ
Summary: Draco's grandchildren have foud a mysterious silver box in Malfoy Manor. Hear him tell the stirring tale of love and war that resulted in the box and its contents Lucius x Narcissa. Implied SM x LP2. TDH spoilers. Please read and review. COMPLETE.
1. Prologue

DISCLAIMER: The characters and the worldin which they inhabit were brazenly stolen from the minds of greater persons than me. I mean no harm and will make no money, and so I can only hope that those great and powerful people will let this slide.

A/N; This story will be told mostly in flashback, with narration from the storyteller in each chapter and bookended with a prologue and epilogue in real time with the narrator. Hope you enjoy.

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_**2047**_

Draco Malfoy felt old and tired. Truly, he was old and tired. Having just celebrated his sixty-seventh birthday, he reckoned that he should not have been so ready to die. But ever since the passing of his wife last year from pneumonia, his expansive manor in Coventry had seemed to him more like a tomb than the palace it once had been. He felt as though he were half dead already, just a specter wandering his hallways. For a while his son, who had just moved back to England from a long stint overseas, had stopped in regularly to keep him company. But Scorpius, an author and diplomat, had disappeared nearly eleven weeks ago after attending an international economic conference off the coast of Bermuda. His daughter-in-law scarcely brought his grandchildren by, and it was even more rare that she would come by unaccompanied by the little ones.

This was why Draco was all but completely floored when his sole remaining house elf had given him the news of her arrival on his doorstep. He had her shown up to his study, as his mobility wasn't what it used to be and he would rather use his energy to visit with her than to get to wherever he should receive her. She was family, after all, and he doubted she would be offended at his request to come upstairs.

"Draco," she called, as she poked her head in to the room. Her auburn hair was fastened at her neck and her eyes betrayed the worry she was undoubtedly feeling over her missing husband.

"Come in, Lily," he encouraged, standing from his seat to greet her. Lily Malfoy walked slowly into the room. She was a slight woman, smaller really than Draco remembered her being. Perhaps she only looked small in the absence of her smile, which had always been her most prominent feature. She carried with her a small leather satchel and was dressed as though she had left the house very quickly. "You've not brought my grandchildren with you," Draco observed. Lily shook her head.

"No," she affirmed. "No I haven't. I've left them with Albus and Celina. There's something I need to speak to you about."

"Is everything alright?" he asked, gesturing for her to sit and taking his own seat once again. Lily shook her head.

"I don't know," she admitted, seating herself with the leather satchel on her lap. "That house…" she began. 'That house' was Malfoy Manor. Lily and Scorpius had only moved into the mansion eight months ago when Scorpius had accepted a position as Chief Finance Adjutant to the Minister of Magic. Prior to that he had served as an international emissary on behalf of the ministry and Lily and their children had lived in several homes overseas.

"I warned you that you might find it spooky," Draco cajoled. Lily's mother came from humble means, and her father, though a wizard, had been raised by Muggle relatives, so Draco had figured that she had never been in an ancestral wizarding estate before.

"Spooky isn't the problem," she told him. The concern in her voice was clear. "I think something's happening to the children," she finished.

"To the children?" Draco asked. Certainly if his grandchildren were in peril, he would do what he could to assist. Lily nodded.

"To the twins in particular," she clarified. Her two eldest daughters were in their fourth and first years at Hogwarts respectively, but eight year old twins Cygnus and Callidora were still at home with their mother. "I thought it was only their imagination at first," she told him. "But…"

"What was only their imagination?" Draco asked for clarification. Lily wiped her eyes with her hands and sighed.

"It started just after we moved in," she began her story again. "CJ and Calla told me that they found a secret staircase that led to a secret part of the house. They said there were beautiful rooms and there were toys and games and a wooden rocking horse in one of them and another had broomsticks that they could ride." Lily shrugged her shoulders. "And just after Scorpius went missing, they told me that there were new rooms in there that they had just found. And these rooms had robes of the finest silk and velvet that they could dress up in, and plates of gingersnap cookies and boxes of jewels and…" Lily shook her head briefly and bit her lip for a moment. "And like I said, I thought it was just them imagining things. They'd never been in an old magic house and I liked that they were able to have such adventures. But today they brought me this," she reached into the satchel on her lap and withdrew from it an ornate silver box.

The box was covered in a thick patina as though it had not been given any attention in ages. It was mostly rectangular, with dragon claw feet at the four corners and an intricate crest engraved into the top. Lily handed it to Draco.

"They told me it came from the secret rooms," she shared. "I've been through every room in that house, and I've never seen this before. And it won't open. I've tried everything; spells, curses, everything and there's no way to get the damned thing open." She pursed her lips and folded her hands in her lap. "Is the house possessed?" she asked him earnestly. "Are they being sent someplace horrible? Where have my children been, Draco; where are they going that I can't see or access? Have they found a gateway to someplace dark and sinister?"

Draco ran his fingers over the box in his hands. He knew what it was. He sighed deeply and looked his daughter-in-law in the eye. "They've not found any dark gateway, Lily," he explained. "They've found the private floor of the Manor."

"Private floor?" Lily quizzed. She was clearly confused. Draco nodded again.

"The toys and the broomsticks," he explained, "the hobby horse… those things were mine. They found the rooms I grew up in; the floor of the house containing the master suite and the children's wing. I hadn't known that you were unaware of its existence."

"I was unaware," she told him. "I had no idea."

"Scorpius might not have remembered how to get there," he told her. "He never spent many nights there."

"Why couldn't we see it?" she asked. "Why was there never a way to get there and now there is, but only my twins seem to be able to find it?"

"I couldn't begin to tell you," he admitted to her, running his slim fingers through his thin, white hair. "But if I had to guess; I would tell you that the house knows its heir. If Callidora were to approach that doorway, I suspect she'd not get through it. Only Cygnus will be able to see the entry."

"The house recognizes its heir?" Lily was clearly confused. Draco nodded. He leaned forward in his chair and braced his elbows on his knees.

"When my parents were killed," he began, trying very hard to keep composed. It had been twenty years since the earthquake that killed his parents while they were on holiday in Japan, but it still pained him to talk about it. "I had to come to shut up the house. Scorpius was of age by then and the Manor had been left to him, but you were planning a wedding and I thought I'd do better at it anyway. I got there and the stairs had disappeared. I couldn't get to the rooms I'd grown up in. It was just the house sewing itself up until its rightful heir presented himself. I'm sure that if Scorpius had gone looking, he'd have found the stairs, but I suppose he never did. That North Stateroom that you all moved in to was always his favorite place in the Manor; I never imagined that you hadn't been up to the third level."

"I hadn't known anything about it," Lily confided. "But I'm glad to know that it's someplace real and attached to the house and not at all going to harm my children."

"Not at all," Draco comforted her. "The robes and the jewels were my parents' and I'd wager the cookies are the result of the house elves finding out that the children had been up there and wishing to make them happy." Lily allowed herself a tiny smile.

"So do you know what that is?" she asked, gesturing to the silver artifice that Draco had been gingerly stroking. He nodded.

"I do," he answered with a gentle nod. Draco gently pushed against a flower on one side of the box until it sprang out toward him, exposing a two-inch rod protrusion with the flower on the end. He pulled the rod out until it came free of the box, then he jiggled one of the feet until it slid another rod off of the length of the bottom of the box. Draco shifted the box until the majority of it settled into the cavity exposed at the bottom and then slowly slid the top from the bottom. The bottom half was topped by a dial, which Draco spun ninety degrees until it began to turn the other direction and unscrew itself from the box. The dial came off and allowed Draco to slide a thin sheet of silver from the box, finally exposing its contents. He handed the now opened container to his daughter-in-law as he told her, "It's a puzzle. They didn't want just anyone to be able to open it."

"Who didn't?" Lily asked, looking down at the items in the box. Sitting on a blue velvet lining were two remnants of what had clearly once been wands. One of them was barely more than splinters, held together by the remnants of its silvery core. The other was charred to the point of ash, and even the core was blackened by soot.

"You never knew my parents, did you?" Draco asked her. Lily shook her head.

"I met them briefly at our graduation," she told him. "Scorpius introduced us quickly," she added. Draco nodded. "These belonged to your parents?" she asked. Draco nodded again.

"How much has your father told you about the war?" he asked. The war with Voldemort hadn't exactly been a regular topic of conversation in his own house; but then again, Lily's father had been the great hero of the war, and perhaps they spoke of it more in her household. Lily shook her head.

"They didn't like to talk about it in front of us," she admitted. Draco nodded his head. He reached over to a nearby decanter and poured both of them a drink. Passing one of the glasses to Lily, he leaned against the back of his chair.

"Let me tell you," he offered, "about the contents of this box."

**TBC**

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Hope I've piqued your interest. Let me know what you thought. :) I love reviews more than food, which is on its way- we may get another chapter tonight depending on how dinner goes. Cheers!

-MQ


	2. The Malfoy Stemware

A/N: this might or might not be obvious, but I don't want anyone confused... the bits at the top of each chapter in italics are narration; spoken by sixty-seven year old Draco to Lily in his house in Coventry. The bits not in italics are the scene dissolving into witnessing the past; 1997 and '98; the second war with Voldemort. I will identify locations.

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_The summer after my sixth year of Hogwarts was the most confusing time I can remember. I had been involved with the Death Eaters for just under a year when I failed to commit a murder at the Dark Lord's orders. Someone did it for me, though; leading me to find myself in the most unfortunate position of having both sides looking to kill me._

_A friend had helped me to escape to Africa and had told anyone who she could get to listen that I had actually gone to Bombay. The __**Prophet**__ actually reported me killed there. I was supposed to stay in hiding and never come back, but I couldn't help myself. I contacted the friend who'd helped me escape and she brought me home to Wiltshire._

_I knew I would be found out eventually, and I also knew that it was high time I faced whatever might be coming to me. It was then that I became a Death Eater; a full-fledged member of the Dark Lord's circle. I returned to the Order, and to Lord Voldemort, where I remained constantly under his watchful eyes. I'm not proud of the things I did under his tutelage, but it kept me alive._

_My father had been sent to Azkaban more than a year previous, and very suddenly one day it was the Dark Lord's whim that he be released. I have no idea how- but one night there he was. My father was there in the circle with the rest of us as though nothing had ever happened. And at the end of the night we were all sent home: me included. It had been weeks I had been kept at the Dark Lord's side and then I was just…sent home; not that I minded. It was the next day that I began to understand why. My mother was so happy that morning. But right after sundown…_

Narcissa Malfoy eyed her large dining table with a gaze so intent that one might have thought the thing to be a Boggart. She circled the table again and again, muttering to herself and visibly counting on her fingers. She nodded her head once, very definitely, and then pulled her wand from her inner coat pocket. With a very stern expression, she pointed it at the center of the table.

Suddenly, a single panel of the wooden wainscoting vanished from sight, revealing a large void behind it from whence began to arrive dozens of crystal drinking glasses. There were water goblets ad wine goblets, tea cups, coffee cups, chardonnay glasses and champagne flutes; all of them cut with an identical pattern and each bearing the initial 'M' at the base. Narcissa sighed lightly as the last of the pieces settled itself on the table. The panel on the wall proceeded to replace itself with no further intervention from the lady of the house and she moved to seat herself along the center of the table, across from the collection of stemware that amassed itself there.

"What's all this?" Draco called to his mother as he entered the dining room from the adjacent salon through the half open pocket doors.

"The stemware, Draco," Narcissa answered him in a tone that spoke both to the needlessness of his inquiry and to her delight that he was there to inquire in the first place.

"I can see that, mum," Draco said back to her, coming farther into the room so as to examine the contents of the candy dishes on the sideboard, which he knew were always filled. "What I should have asked," he corrected, "is why it's all out like this."

"I want to see that these are all polished before I set them out for dinner," she replied, reaching to the center of the giant table and taking hold of a water glass by its stem.

"Can't the elves do that?" he asked. It was mightily odd to Draco; watching his mother pass her wand over each glass to shine it, sending it over to its proper place on the table, and then repeating the action with the next glass.

"I'm afraid not, Draco," she answered him, her tone becoming cool- almost severe. "I've told them to keep scarce," she informed him. "I fear that our guests might make poor use of them."

"We're having dinner guests, then?" Draco surmised.

"House guests," his mother corrected. Draco settled on a piece of chocolate from a silver dish and then turned to face his mother.

"More house guests?" he asked for clarification. His aunt Bellatrix and her husband had long since installed themselves in the West Stateroom of Malfoy Manor. Narcissa stood to look her son in the eye.

"The Dark Lord has come to our home, Draco," she told him, the slightest tremor coming into her voice. "He's here for an indefinite period," she added, clutching her wand with both hands. "Your aunt Bellatrix is showing him to the North Stateroom." Draco blanched at the news. So that was what was going on; that was why he had been allowed to return home with his father. Narcissa took a very deep breath and turned to face the table again.

The glasses, goblets, flutes, and cups were all neatly arranged now into individual place settings; each corresponding to one of the hand carved high-backed dining chairs. As Narcissa studied the arrangement, another voice could suddenly be heard in the dining room.

"Might I be hearing the dulcet tones of my lovely wife?" Lucius asked as he came into the dining room through the entrance hall doors, which were standing completely open. A suddenly smiling Narcissa turned to her left to face her husband.

"That you do," she answered. "Hello love," she greeted him as he crossed to her and caught her lips in a brief kiss.

"Hello my dearest," he answered, kissing her again on the forehead before pulling back to lean on the sideboard next to Draco. Lucius absentmindedly popped a cashew in to his mouth from a crystal dish near to the bowl of chocolates Draco had been munching on. "I had feared that this might be what you were up to," Lucius said to his wife, this time grabbing a whole handful of cashews. "Are we really to have a formal dinner for…" he thought for a moment. "How many of them are there?" he asked in all sincerity. The Dark Lord, it turned out, did not arrive at the Manor alone. Several of his most loyal and obsessed hangers-on had come to stay as well.

"Eleven, darling," Narcissa answered, "fourteen total when you count the three of us."

"And you really wish to go to all this trouble?" Lucius asked between mouthfuls of nuts.

"It's no trouble at all," Narcissa insisted, waving her wand to lift all of the stemware directly up from where it was. "It's a great privilege to have the Dark Lord staying in our home," she asserted, flicking her wand once and watching as a starched white linen tablecloth appeared above the table and then settled itself perfectly into place. "And we must remember to treat it as such," she added, lowering her wand and with it the stemware. "I'm not sure that the Dark Lord had ever had occasion to attend a formal dinner, before. But the truth is: if he intends to rule the world, then it's high time he grow accustomed to such occasions." Narcissa pointed her wand at the table again. Instantly, a giant urn appeared in its center, brimming with colorful and fragrant blossoms of every variety imaginable. "Not to mention," she continued, turning again to face her husband and son, "He has seen to it that our family is whole again; together under one roof. That's plenty to celebrate."

"And you, my pet," Lucius addressed her, "have been itching for a reason to entertain for months now." He smiled at her knowingly. Lucius knew his wife well enough to know that he was more than just a little bit right. Narcissa smiled back at him and shrugged her shoulders.

"Alright, you've caught me," she conceded. "But what if I have?" She flicked her wand through the air again, causing fourteen linen napkins to appear above the table, fold themselves neatly into perfect pyramids, and place themselves before every seat. "That doesn't make tonight any less of an occasion," she defended. Lucius nodded his head at her contention and reached his hand to her elbow, pulling her into an easy embrace.

"That it does not, my dearest," he agreed. "Although I might have preferred that tonight be just the two of us." Draco cleared his throat as noisily as he could.

"Hello," he injected, "son-and-heir in earshot," he reminded them. Draco appreciated that his parents were so much in love; he just wished sometimes that they wouldn't ACT like it.

"My apologies, son," Lucius said to him, feigning contrition, but not making the slightest move to let go of his wife.

"Anyway, Lucius," Narcissa began again, turning the conversation back to the conversation at hand. "It's fourteen people; five courses, it's hardly any trouble at all."

"Narcissa, you amaze me," Lucius said to her, squeezing her elbow as he lessened his hold on her otherwise.

"Yeah," Draco added, his mouth once again full of chocolate. "All of that rigmarole and still no guilt about spoiling our supper." He took another candy from the bowl as he smiled at his father.

"Draco," his mother addressed him, "You are a grown man now and I feel as though I no longer have the right to tell you when and what you may eat. And as for you…" She took a tiny step to look her husband in the eye. "You were more than a year in that wretched place," she declared. "And you've come back to me half starved with a sallow complexion and dark circles under your eyes that a good night's sleep has failed to remedy."

"I'm fine, Cissa," Lucius said to her; his voice sounding tender but certain.

"You may well be," she allowed. "But I'll fuss over you if I choose. Suffice to say that either one of you may eat anything within your line of sight for the foreseeable future with no complaints from me." She smiled warmly at both of them. Narcissa leaned in and kissed Lucius, and then Draco, on the cheek before continuing. "That said," she added, "dinner is in one hour and I expect you to dress."

"Did you hear that, Draco," his father inquired, a hint of mischief in his tone. "We have an hour until dinner. I believe that gives me just enough time to trounce you at backgammon before we have to dress."

"What's that father?" Draco joked in reply. "I'm not sure I heard you right. Did you say that you want me to teach you to play backgammon?" Lucius laughed aloud at that. "Alright," Draco agreed, taking a handful of chocolates and heading toward the partially open salon doors. "But I'm not going to let you win." Lucius followed his son's retreat for a few steps before turning back to kiss his wife quickly before leaving.

"Dinner's in an hour, darling," she reminded him. "Don't be late." Lucius nodded before turning and heading off after his son.

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This was hand written on a notepad today at work and typed in quickly as I arrived home. Maybe another chapter tonight. Tomorrow will be spent writing or napping, enough reviews tonight will excite me into more and faster. Those of you who know my writing know that I'm famous for the 3-chapter day... More soon! Thanks for all of the reviews and all of the expressions of interest. :)

-MQ


	3. My Father's Crisis

_My mother was wrong a precious few times in her life. But a formal dinner held for Lord Voldemort was quite possibly the worst case. Apparently no one had told him, or anyone else present for that matter, that torture and murder were not appropriate dinner conversation. Everything he had to say, it seems, made my mother uncomfortable; and making my mother uncomfortable was the one sure-fire thing a person could do to upset my father. And Lord Voldemort could tell that my father was upset and, to tell you the truth, I think He liked it. I think He enjoyed watching my mother squirm at the mention of all of the vile things her husband and son had been forced to do in His service. And I know He enjoyed watching the struggle my father was having with himself; forced to sit calmly and behave under those circumstances._

_We didn't have another group meal for quite some time after that. But Lord Voldemort had found a new hobby; torturing my parents psychologically. And pretty quickly He figured out that my mother would not again make the mistake of finding herself in His presence. So he began to require her attendance. _

_By the end of July of that year, things had already become preposterous in Lord Voldemort's inner circles. He had become completely obsessed; and not with the mission. All He seemed to care about anymore was killing your father. He was consumed by it. Every move He made, every piece of the plan, all of it was about His need to kill Harry Potter. It was as though that was the totality of what we were doing._

_Looking back, it's easy now to see that He had long since gone mad; but at the time we just did as he said. Out of loyalty or out of fear; I don't know, but we did what we were told to do. And one of the things my father had been told to do was to surrender his wand. He made my mother witness a murder and then he demanded my father's wand. And what could we do?_

_He was going after your father, and he needed to do so with a borrowed wand…_

"My wand, Narcissa," Lucius seethed. He was pacing back and forth across the private sitting room, running his fingers through his disheveled hair and growling under his breath. Neither his wife nor his son had ever seen him so angry. "My WAND!" he repeated himself loudly, gesturing to the splintered fragment of wood on the coffee table, held together by its silvery core.

Narcissa Malfoy sat quietly on the arm of the sofa, her eyes glassy and her jaw set. Anyone who saw her would have known in an instant that she was doing her level best not to break down and cry. "Please calm down, Lucius," she implored quietly. If he heard her, he made no indication of such. Lucius continued his angry pacing, balling his hands into fists and pounding them against his thighs and occasionally the nearest unsuspecting piece of furniture.

"He took… and he destroyed… my bloody wand!" he hollered, picking up a porcelain vase from the mantle and tossing it across the room. Narcissa recoiled slightly at that and sucked in a quick, tense breath.

"Lucius please," his wife said, this time speaking even more softly than before. She was beginning to tremble, her hands were folded in her lap, her fingers laced tightly together, her knuckles becoming white at the pressure. She quietly pointed her wand at the chards of glass strewn on the floor and whispered the incantation to repair it.

Her son, for his part, sat on the settee, watching his father like a hawk. He had never seen anyone so intense about anything. His father was a frightening enough man under the best of circumstances, and now he was positively terrifying. Draco would not have blamed his mother in the least if she had cried or if she ran into her room and locked the door. But, of course she wouldn't. The worse his father got, the more his mother was apt to stick by him. Draco wasn't sure himself why he still sat there as witness to his father's wrath, but he was glued to his seat as though with a sticking charm.

"What am I to do," he growled, turning to look his wife, "without my wand?" he emphasized. He sounded a bit less angry, a bit more defeated. Narcissa bit her lip briefly and steadied herself.

"It isn't the end of the world, Lucius," she said to him more calmly than one might have thought possible under the circumstances.

"It isn't the…?" Lucius bellowed in response, charging toward where she sat. Then, very suddenly, he stopped himself. His voice went quiet and his forward motion ceased. He looked at his visibly shaken wife and sighed, sinking into the nearest chair. "I'm not angry with you, Cissa," he whispered, looking down at the floor and shaking his head. "I don't mean to be gruff with you." Narcissa sighed and stood from her seat, crossing to where Lucius was sitting and placing her hand lightly onto his shoulder.

"I know, darling," she comforted him, her voice suddenly calm and tender. "I know. And don't think that I'm not upset over this," she added. "But this wasn't the worst thing that could have happened to us tonight," she said to him. Lucius looked up and let his eyes fall upon the shattered remains of his wand on the coffee table.

"It wasn't?" he sighed, clearly in disbelief. "Why did Bella even bring it back to me?" he asked. He hadn't been made fully clear of just how his wand had been destroyed, but Bellatrix had presented it to him upon her return as though it were a token of esteem or a souvenir of some great event.

"Perhaps she thought that you might like to have it," Narcissa posited, "But more likely she was being nasty and thought it amusing to hand you your broken wand." Lucius looked back at her and nodded. "But please don't tear into her the way you usually would," she asked him, "at least not yet," she finished. Narcissa took a slow and shaky breath and looked her husband squarely in his gray eyes. "My sister has been made a widow tonight," she shared.

"Oh, heavens, Cissa," Lucius sighed. Narcissa nodded. She brushed the back of her hand against his cheek.

"She didn't give me many details," she told him. "All I got from her was that a certain," she paused to allow herself a tiny sniffle. "Half-blood niece of ours," she continued, "got a piece of him with a blasting curse and knocked him off of his broomstick at some great altitude." Narcissa sniffed again. "So you see, darling; it could be much, much worse." Lucius nodded his head, he had to admit that there were things worse than losing one's wand; not many things, but there were some.

"But still…" Lucius was at a complete loss for words. He was caught in the space of wanting to comfort his wife while still in the midst of all-consuming anger over the loss of the thing most important to life as he knew it.

"Why was it, father?" Draco heard his own voice sound before he was even sure what he was doing. Lucius' head snapped sideways, ripped from the tender moment he was sharing with his wife to address his only son's question. "Why," Draco began again. He had started the question; he might as well finish it. "How come he needed your wand to begin with?" he finally got out.

"You weren't there," Lucius answered, much to the visible surprise of the others in the room. "In the graveyard," he clarified, "on the night of the Dark Lord's return." Lucius took his wife's hand and pulled her into the seat next to him. He took both of her hands in his as he continued. "He and the Potter boy cast at each other and their wands did the strangest thing. The spells locked on to each other and neither one of them did anything. It was most peculiar. It was because of that most curious occurrence that we took custody of Ollivander," he explained. "The Dark Lord suspected that it had to do with the wands, and it seems as though he may have been correct in his assumption. His wand, for whatever reason, will not work against Potter. And so he demanded mine." Lucius sighed. It appeared as though his whole body deflated s he exhaled.

"Which brings me to a very good point," Narcissa injected.

"What's that, pet?" Lucius asked, sounding as though his inquiry was merely to indulge her desire to contribute.

"Where did you get your wand, Lucius?" she asked, in a tone that made it sound as though she already knew the answer. He shook his head and looked at her, a confused expression on his face.

"In DiagonAlley," he answered incredulously. "From Ollivander's."

"And where is Mr. Ollivander these days, darling?" she asked, again in the same tone of voice.

"In the Dark Lord's custody," Lucius answered, sounding as though he was beginning to get what she was saying.

"Not only in the custody of the Dark Lord," she clarified. "I have it from Bella's own lips that Mr. Ollivander is, at this very moment, in our own cellar."

"In our cellar?" Lucius echoed in disbelief. Narcissa smiled at him and nodded her head.

"Yes, darling," she affirmed, squeezing his hands, "and not likely to be going anyplace any time soon," she added. "If anyone can repair it, it will be Ollivander." Lucius nodded. He stood from his seat, but somehow looked smaller than he had before he sat down. "Draco," she said softly, turning to her son. He lifted his eyebrows in response. "Could you please excuse us?" she asked.

"Yeah," he answered softly. Draco knew that sometimes it was better to let his mother deal with his father than to try to offer any assistance himself. "Good night," he said to both of them as he quickly crossed out of the room. Narcissa stood then and approached her husband, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"Tell me how you're really feeling," she asked him. The two of them had been entirely open to each other since Lucius' return from Azkaban, and Narcissa felt confident that he would be honest with her even now. He made no move to return her embrace, and instead she felt his whole body stiffen at her question.

"Like half a wizard," he confessed, his jaw clenched and his eyes beginning to tear. Narcissa backed away from him just to arm's length, leaving her hands on his hips.

"But that isn't true," she contended. Narcissa let go of him with one hand and withdrew her wand from her skirt pocket. She picked up one of his hands in both of hers and handed her wand to him. "Unbutton my jacket," she instructed, taking another step back from him. Her eyes went quickly from his eyes to the wand in his hand and back again. "Go ahead," she encouraged.

"Cissa, I can't…"

"Nonsense," she insisted. "You are a strong man and a powerful wizard. And we've been married for twenty two years, what's mine is yours darling. And while there is only one wand between us, you should be as comfortable as I am using it. So," she sang, unbutton my jacket." She smiled wickedly at him and cocked her head to the side.

"You are good for me, pet," he said to her, allowing himself a smile as he pointed her wand at her and raised an eyebrow. One by one the buttons on her jacket undid themselves until the front of her sheer lace blouse was visible from top to bottom. Lucius then flicked the wand upward, sliding the garment from her shoulders and down the length of her arms. Narcissa allowed her eyes to follow her jacket to the floor and then she smiled back at her husband. "And how are you feeling now?" she asked, unbuttoning the ruffles from her collar to expose just how sheer her blouse actually was. Lucius smiled even wider and stepped closer to her.

"Like perhaps I should talk to Ollivander tomorrow and deal with more pressing concerns tonight," he answered, taking her by the waist and pulling her to him. He handed her back her wand and then ran both of his hands through her hair. "How does that sound to you?"

"Like perfection, my darling," she told him. "Let's go to bed."

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Told you there might be more tonight- even though there have been no reviews to the last chapter. But here is more. I bet you've figured out what's in the box by now... Reviews are better than sleep- which I should be doing. Did I mention that it's pre-pneumonia and that I'm on some mad 72 hour course of antibiotics??? Yikes! Anyway, more tomorrow- maybe a lot more. :)

-MQ


	4. No Sanctuary

For PeevesthePoltergeist who always remembers to review :)

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_My father was never the same after that night. Ollivander couldn't fix his wand; he wouldn't even try. And Lord Voldemort seemed determined to prevent my father from getting another one. Ollivander stayed locked in the antechamber of our cellar and we were forbidden to speak to him. My father's spirit was as broken as his wand, and my mother didn't know what to do._

_But she kept herself together. We would spend most days in the private sitting room; the three of us hiding from the legion of Death Eaters who had taken over downstairs. The elves would bring us our meals up there, and I don't know how, but we always managed to find things to talk about._

_Our ability to find sanctuary didn't sit well with Lord Voldemort. It seemed as though He couldn't fathom the idea of anyone under our roof having even a moment of comfort. But we were sure He was listening, somehow aware of whatever we were doing; so there was really very little comfort to be found. It seemed as though finding ways to make our family suffer had become a hobby of His._

_I think it was the first of August of that year…_

"Do you think it's safe to write letters now?" Draco asked his mother, scribbling on a parchment with a silver quill. Narcissa Malfoy shrugged as she looked up from the book she had been occupied with all evening. She reached over to the nearby table and retrieved her teacup, taking a sip before answering.

"Well, Draco, I don't suppose it was ever unsafe to write letters," she posited. "Sending them, however, was a serious issue. But I suppose now, that our side has control of the Ministry, I think it would be perfectly safe. Although, I would use discretion, Draco," she added, setting her teacup back onto its saucer. "You might want to mind your words, and it could behoove you to only write to those of your friends whose families are clearly on our side."

"But I could write to Crabbe and Goyle?" he asked. Narcissa smiled at her son.

"I think that would be perfectly acceptable, Draco," she answered. "But I've met those boys," she added, "and I wouldn't expect a response if I were you." Narcissa and Draco both had a little chuckle at that.

"You're going to take that from your mother?" Lucius asked his son from his chair in the far corner of the room. Narcissa looked over her shoulder at her husband and smiled. It had been very rare in the recent weeks for him to show any jocularity at all, and she was pleased beyond measure that he had injected such a comment. Lucius looked up over his newspaper to wink at his wife.

"It's nothing about Draco, darling," she said to him. "But I have met those boys and I assure you that literacy is not a quality either of them exudes. They were here for two weeks last summer and I doubt I had ever seen such abysmal manners. Not that I had too much interaction with any of them," she added, "what, with Pansy trying so hard to make friends with me I barely had time to speak to any of the rest of your friends." Draco blushed at that comment.

"A girlfriend, Draco?" his father asked, rising from his chair. He left the newspaper on the seat and crossed to sit next to Narcissa on the fainting couch.

"Only if you ask her," Draco answered, trying his best not to blush any further. Pansy Parkinson had been in the habit of throwing herself at him since first year, and the fact was that he had no real interest in her. However, that hadn't stopped him from having his way with her last summer, nor from continuing to do so with some regularity during last school year. These are things he might have chosen to tell his father, had the subject come up otherwise, but not exactly the kind of thing a seventeen year old would be comfortable discussing with his very proper mother.

"Ivy Parkinson's horrible daughter," Narcissa told her husband, reaching her hand out to take his. "She absolutely chases Draco," she said to her husband. "Really it's shameful. But, then again, we know how Ivy used to be and I suppose it's a case of the apple not falling far fro the tree." Draco shook his head. He didn't mind his mother's opinion of Pansy; it was pretty well the same as his own, however he really wished that they would just change the subject.

Suddenly, Draco sucked in a tense breath. He grasped his left arm with his right hand and looked his father in the eye. Narcissa bit her lower lip, almost certain as to what was going on. Lucius looked at his son and shook his head. Draco nodded once and stood from his seat. His face looked ashen suddenly and he seemed to shake all over as he stepped slowly away from his seat toward the door.

"He's calling you," Narcissa surmised. Draco nodded. "And only you," she added, casting her eyes quickly toward Lucius and then back to her son. Lucius looked deflated. Whatever part of him had come out to tease his son about romantic prospects had left him fully in the instant that he learned his son's Mark had moved without his own in tandem. Draco hesitated for a moment with his hand on the doorknob and then turned the knob and slipped quickly out of the room. Narcissa stood and faced her husband, tilting his chin up with her hand so that she could look him in the eye. "I should go with him," she posited. Lucius averted his eyes, but nodded slightly.

Narcissa pursed her lips and nodded as well. "I love you," she told him. Lucius did not look up at her. He sighed as he shut his eyes tightly and Narcissa caught the slightest trace of a tear at the corner of his eye. She knelt down before him, placing her hands on either side of his face. She pulled him toward her and kissed him squarely on the mouth. He hesitated, but after a moment, he allowed her to kiss him if only briefly. As the kiss broke, he still wouldn't open his eyes. "I love you," she repeated.

Lucius made a gesture with his hand for her to go after Draco. Narcissa nodded; she knew that she needed to be there for her son, but it was paining her beyond measure to leave her husband in this emotional state. She kissed the top of his head and then turned to go. Quickly, she darted across the room and out the door; knowing that her impulse to linger could have put her son in danger.

She caught up with Draco as he made it to top of the grand staircase. He started down to the ground floor and Narcissa followed him at close range. Neither of them acknowledged the other; it was a silent and functional routine that they shared. Narcissa Malfoy had been with her son on the first night that Lord Voldemort had called him in to service, and she had been present when Draco had left their house just weeks ago, on the night he would be branded a Death Eater. Ever since she had been ordered to attend when the Dark Lord called, she had made it her business to be there whenever her son was summoned to His presence.

The two of them reached the bottom of the grand staircase and turned abruptly to the right. Both of them knew where they were heading. Lord Voldemort had made an afternoon of blasting apart the statuary hall, and had since adopted the long and featureless room as His preferred location for mayhem and torture. If a Death Eater were summoned to Him without prior notice, it was a safe bet that's where they were heading.

The reached the end of the corridor and Draco passed quietly into the long and gloomy room. There was a fire burning at the far end and the ominous figure of the Dark Lord loomed in silhouette before the embers. He walked slowly toward his master, as his mother stood quietly in the doorway. The Dark Lord would know she was there, and call her nearer if He so desired.

"Draco," the Dark Lord greeted him as he approached. As he came closer to the firelight, Draco was sure that he recognized the unconscious and bleeding body of Antonin Dolohov crumpled in the far corner. Another man, who Draco was sure he knew, but couldn't recall the name of, knelt at the Dark Lord's feet. "So glad you could join us," He addressed Draco, his frightening smile causing the man on the floor to shudder. "These two gentlemen," he regarded the two Death Eaters on the floor, "have failed me tonight." Lord Voldemort pointed his wand toward the kneeling man and his head rose to look Draco in the eye. His eyes were pleading, and they shifted back and forth from Draco to the coiled form of Nagini on the hearth.

"Failed you, my lord?" Draco asked with as much reverence as he could muster while this terrified.

"As you did," Lord Voldemort reminded him. Draco nodded. He cold hear his mother's breath catch in her throat from her position near the door.

"Come in, Narcissa Malfoy," Lord Voldemort beckoned to her. She obeyed him, taking a few measured steps into the room. Her head was high and her jaw set. She had decided long ago that neither Lord Voldemort nor any of his henchmen would get the best of her out in the open. It was a skill she had first learned years ago; the first time her husband had been arrested under suspicion of being a Death Eater and that she had perfected during his yearlong stay in Azkaban. Aurors and laypeople alike had sneered in her direction, whispered behind her back, and occasionally sworn at her in the street; but she was the champion of the cool exterior. This was a skill that had served her well since Lord Voldemort and his army had made headquarters in her home.

"My lord," she addressed him, with a slight bow of her head.

"Draco has learned," He told her, taking a step in her direction, "what happens to those who fail me," he shared. Draco shot a glance toward his mother as she stepped into the light, but his attention was drawn immediately back to the man on his knees. "And he has learned well," He added, turning back to face Draco. "Haven't you, Draco," He asked.

"Yes, my lord," Draco answered, his gaze never leaving the man on the floor.

"Well," the Dark Lord continued, his face suddenly very close to Draco's ear, "I believe it's time that you show your colleague Rowle what you've learned." Draco shuddered. He knew that he had no choice. Lord Voldemort wished for him to torture this man; and if he didn't, he would certainly face the Cruciatus himself. Draco drew his wand and pointed it at the kneeling Rowle.

He wanted to order his mother out of the room. He remembered all too well her reaction to the tales the Dark Lord had told of his use of the Unforgivable Curses; the look on her face that night was burned into his memory so strongly that no amount of time or drink was likely to erase it. As distasteful as the thought of torturing yet another wizard was; the thought of his mother having to witness it was doubly so.

Lord Voldemort noticed his momentary hesitation and pointed His own wand at the young man. Draco looked to his mother, who simply nodded once; her eyes fixed and her jaw set. He then looked to the Dark Lord; He was beginning to lose patience and Draco could tell that another moment's hesitation might cost him dearly. He took a deep breath and concentrated on his wand, calling out, _**"CRUCIO**_!"

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So I think my muse took a sick day or something. It took me a long time to write this chapter-like all day. Hopefully the next one will come quicker; like in the next hour maybe? Anyway, thanks for reading and I hope you're enjoying it. Please let me know what you thought- I check my reviews pretty obsessively. :)

-MQ


	5. A Useful Heirloom

_My mother…_

_I guess there was never any doubt about my returning to Hogwarts for my seventh year. Our side had control of the Ministry, and of the school; and there were Death Eaters going to be on staff. I was to serve as a shining example to my peers that pure blood and proper alliances would win you favor with those in power._

_I had become Lord Voldemort's mascot; and I hated it. I had always done well at school, but the pressure to be top of my year had never been so powerful as it was coming from the Dark Lord himself. It was a daunting position to be in._

_My mother had never been so happy to see me off. At school, we doubted that I'd be forced to torture anyone. And it felt kind of nice to be out of the house. _

_Hogwarts was strange that year; the changes took some getting used to. There were new people in every year. That had never happened before that I could tell. Students from B'nai Kabbal and from Clontarf Academy seemed more than a little unhappy to be forced to come to Hogwarts, and kids who'd been home schooled were just lost. And terrified._

_I didn't mind the changes so much, I guess. I just went about like I always had. But I did wonder sometimes about things at home. I wrote to my parents every week, but I never got an answer. I got packages regularly; robes and sweets, but never letters._

_When I came home for Christmas holiday I was actually quite pleasantly surprised. Both of my parents met the train. To my knowledge my father hadn't left the property since he returned from Azkaban. He carried his walking stick with him, which he had sometimes secreted his wand within, and he seemed pleased that no one he encountered appeared to be the wiser that he was without a wand._

_It was good to see my father smiling. And mother; she looked almost radiant. She had decided that we would have a proper Christmas no matter what, and it raised her spirits to be planning an event on the scale of the Solstice Balls she had been accustomed to throwing until last year._

_My father and I shared with each other privately our fears as to what was going to happen if this party she was planning went as wrong as our first dinner together. But neither of us would say a word to her about it. We just helped her with the preparations as best we could._

_I'd never seen our ballroom as decked out as it was that Christmas Eve._

"Lucius, darling, quit fussing with that," Narcissa Malfoy ordered her husband as he continued to arrange the tiny gold bells on the table between the doors to the ballroom.

"I am not fussing, Narcissa," he challenged, shooting her a frown. She winked at him and chuckled.

"Whatever you say, dear," she placated him. "But it doesn't matter what they look like on the table, they'll not be seen there."

"I beg your pardon?" Lucius asked. He had no idea how it was that the table full of bells would not be seen by the guests who should be arriving any second now. He did not have to wait long for an answer. All at once the massive doors to the ballroom swung themselves open and into the room poured the longtime garrison of the Manor along with several others who Lucius recognized as Ministry officials and fellow Death Eaters.

As the first volley of people came through the doors, the braided wire bows atop the little bells began to flap like wings, and all of them at once took off from their position on the table. One by one, the bells sought out a single guest, rang to get his or her attention, and then led that guest to their place at the table, marked by a card bearing their name which the bell promptly lifted from the table and pinched between the loops of the bow.

Once the bells had led the last of the guests to their seats at the U-shaped table, Lord Voldemort Apparated directly in to his chair in the center of the head table. The wards in and around Malfoy Manor usually did not allow for Apparition inside of the house, but all of the Malfoys had long since been convinced that Lord Voldemort had magic that cold defeat near anything.

The Dark Lord looked to each side. He was flanked by Narcissa on his right and Bellatrix on his left. Beyond them were Lucius and Draco in turn, past whom the tables extended out at a right angle for yards back toward the door. He seemed almost pleased with the setup, so Narcissa took no time in tapping her wand against the table to call forth the food.

There were five gooses, seven hams, a pair of lamb shanks, and more puddings, sauces, gravies, and sundry side items than had been amassed in Malfoy Manor in ages. The wines were perfectly paired to each of the meats, and poured themselves to each guest according to his or her choices. The sudden cessation of voices replaced by the constant clanging of silver against china was enough to tell Narcissa that this had been a very good idea.

It seemed even Lord Voldemort enjoyed a good meal every now and then. He ate greedily, and without the vile commentary He had so relished the last time he shared a meal with the Malfoy family. Between dinner and dessert, Lucius reached his hand beneath the table and squeezed his wife's knee, a safe and quiet affirmation of how pleased he was with her. She smiled warmly back at him as the cakes and tarts began to circulate through the group.

Dessert went as smoothly as dinner and Narcissa was beaming with delight by the time the dessert dishes were being cleared and the after dinner cocktails were being poured. She stood from the table and waved her wand at the large Christmas tree in the far corner of the room near the entrance. From beneath the tree came a steady stream of wrapped packages, each landing in front of one guest or another until everyone in the room save the Malfoys had at least one gift before them.

Lord Voldemort looked particularly puzzled by the silver and green package tied with velvet ribbon that settled itself before them. Narcissa had to stop and wonder for a moment if He had ever before been given a gift. She knew very little about his background; perhaps he hadn't.

The group at the head table watched as the guests tore into their presents. Cashmere scarves, wool hats, leather gloves, suede jackets, silver jewels and silk ribbons were pulled from boxes as sounds of surprise and delight filled the room from all sides. Finally, the Dark Lord studied the box before Him. He withdrew His wand, pointed it at the box, and tapped once. The box vanished completely, leaving behind it a tiny sphere of lapis and amber, hovering over a solid gold base no larger than a tea biscuit. Upon the gold was emblazoned a crest, and beneath it, ornate calligraphy read "toujours pur".

"It belonged to our grandfather," Narcissa explained quietly. "I thought: what to give the man who has everything…? And so I give you the world. It's a globe that allows you to locate any of your kinsmen. In your case, that will be anyone who is committed to your side. Picture their face, speak their name, and the globe will show you where they are. You can find anyone anywhere in the world with this." She smiled humbly at Him, hoping that He found her magical item satisfactory as a Christmas gift.

"A useful heirloom," He spoke to her quietly. "Thank you," He added. The Dark Lord picked up the tiny globe and studied it for a moment. "Fenrir Greyback," He whispered. A tiny red dot began to glow at the point on the globe that represented the central English countryside. From the tiny point came a beam of reddish light reaching up several inches from the surface of the globe, which molded itself slowly into the face of the man whose name the Dark Lord had spoken. The face snored loudly once before Lord Voldemort snatched the globe into his palm and turned back to face Narcissa. "Yes, very useful," He affirmed.

Suddenly, and without warning, the Dark Lord had departed. He Apparated out of sight, leaving those within earshot of the use of the globe whether or not He had gone to punish Greyback for sleeping on the job. She let out a breath she hadn't been fully aware that she was holding, and turned to smile warmly at her husband. He reached beneath the table and squeezed her knee again. He was smiling back at her. His smile was genuine and complete; not something that had been seen by anyone in recent memory.

"That went well," Narcissa said to her husband, leaning a little closer to him, but not enough that anyone outside of the two of them might have noticed. "I have your presents upstairs," she whispered to him. "We'll open gifts in the morning," she said, "just like every year." Narcissa couldn't contain her joy at that thought. Lucius, who had spent last Christmas freezing in Azkaban, couldn't have been happier.

"I have your gifts upstairs as well," he said quietly to her, "but there is at least one you'll have to open tonight."

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Short chapter, but a happier one. More tomorrow, as it's half past midnight and I am sleepy.

-MQ


	6. Destroyed

_Christmas changed a lot for us. It wasn't as though everything was suddenly better, but it seemed to me like my parents actually started to relax. My mother smiled more, and my father had regained his ability to enjoy himself. They smiled at each other again- and it was nice._

_Mother even decided to reclaim her house as best she could. Lord Voldemort had moved our dining table into the drawing room, and Christmas night my mother put it back. She rearranged the furniture, tossing out all of the pieces that had been torn or broken by the careless garrison occupying her lower floors. _

_By the time I went back to Hogwarts for spring term, you could have fooled an onlooker into thinking all of our 'houseguests' had been invited. And I started getting letters from home again. My parents started going out again, too. They were important people; and our side was winning. They were seen together at the Ministry and at all manner of functions thrown by other important people. Having been at the Malfoy Christmas banquet had become some sort of a status symbol out in the world. And nobody seemed to have any indication that my father had lost his wand. _

_I was top of my year then; it wasn't so hard with Granger gone. Your aunt Hermione was better at school than anyone I have met before or since. But it had been ruled much earlier in the year that anyone born of muggle parents wasn't allowed to attend Hogwarts that year. Although I suspect she'd have been running about the countryside with your father and uncle either way._

_Things felt almost normal. I went to classes, spent time with my friends, played a lot of Quidditch, and generally managed to forget there was a war on. That was the biggest benefit of being on the side we were on. I know that other kids were having a rough time of the new curriculum and the staff changes, but it didn't affect us in Slytherin; not really._

_When Easter break came, I caught my parents holding hands in the train station. I'd never seen them do that in public before. They were more in love than any couple I've ever known, but you wouldn't have guessed that from the way they behaved in public. And I discovered when I got home that they had ceased with spending whole days up in their rooms. We took our meals in the dining room, we read in the library, mother played her piano again in her conservatory, and we spent evenings in the drawing room being as social as we could stand with the others who came and went constantly. My mother had even taken to answering the door; something she'd never done before, as we'd had an elf for that until last summer when she'd told him to keep hidden, and after that she hadn't cared who came in._

_It was the night before I was to return to school that all hell broke loose. Some snatchers, including Greyback, who I had terrified of since I was little, thought they had found your father. Truth be told: they had found your father, but someone had hit him with a stinging hex and he didn't look like himself. They brought him to the Manor, and my mother asked me to tell them if it was him or not. I was sure it was, but something stopped me from saying so. Perhaps it was how desperate my father was for it to be him. The idea that my father could suddenly sound happier than I'd heard him in years at the notion that he would shortly be presenting a boy my own age to the Dark Lord for murdering was altogether the most disturbing thing I could recall._

_They knew it was him. I wasn't much help, but mother recognized your aunt and uncle with him, so they knew; and the Dark Lord was summoned. I don't remember everything; it was nearly fifty years ago, but at some point Bellatrix came in, and she set to torturing your aunt. Mother couldn't watch, but she couldn't leave, either. She stood facing the fire and listened. The others had been locked in the same chamber of the cellar where Ollivander was being held._

_And somehow they got out. There was a lot of fighting- all of it in our drawing room. My father's former manservant, an elf named Dobby, showed up out of nowhere and dropped the chandelier on us. And they got away. And they got my wand, and Bella's. Oh, she was furious. _

_But even Bellatrix's wrath could not compare to that of the Dark Lord._

"Draco, go to your room," Narcissa ordered her son as she stood from where she had crouched to avoid being hit by the falling chandelier. "Get cleaned up," she added, drawing in a shaky breath. He had cuts on his face and hands and a substantial gash across his forehead. Draco, in pain, terrified, and bleeding, did not even hesitate to do as his mother asked of him. He stood up himself and strode quickly through the drawing room doors and practically scurried toward the grand staircase. Narcissa sighed as she surveyed the damage in the room. "The wards are down," she observed, looking blankly at the spot from which Harry Potter and his comrades had just Disapparated. Her lower lip began to tremble at the thought of the century old magic attached to their house that had somehow been removed without her even having taken notice.

"Cissa, you're bleeding," Lucius said to her, finding his balance. He had hit his head on one of the giant brass candlesticks flanking the hearth and he rubbed the sore spot on the back of his head as he examined his wife. Her hands were cut up, and her robes were practically shredded. She had tried to shield Draco from the flying shards of crystal and in doing so had become much worse for the wear.

"I'm sure I am," she agreed, looking down at the cuts on her hands. She felt herself tearing up as she waded through the clattering debris that covered the drawing room floor. "Are you alright?" she asked him as she crossed in his direction. Lucius nodded.

"I'll be fine, pet," he assured her, offering her his hand to help her over the pile of spindly metal that had once anchored the chandelier to the ceiling and the prostrate body of Fenrir Greyback. She took his hand and, lifting her skirts with her other hand, stepped gingerly over the debris.

"Bella, are you alright?" Narcissa asked. Bellatrix didn't have time to answer. Very suddenly the Dark Lord was in their midst, His imposing form displacing the hulk of chandelier remnants.

"Yes, Bella," Lord Voldemort said to her, turning his face toward her. "Is everything quite alright?" he asked. Bellatrix began to tremble visibly. "Where is Harry Potter?" he asked. Narcissa sniffled and shut her eyes. She feared the retribution that was about to be meted out. The Dark Lord spun on his heel, drawing His wand as He did and firing a blasting curse at Narcissa, her sniffle having been enough to incite His rage. She fell backward, unconscious, and Lucius was barely able to react quickly enough to slow her fall before she hit the floor.

"He escaped, my lord," Bella answered, falling to her knees and casting her eyes to the ground. "An elf…" she tried to explain. "The chandelier…" She was no longer able to form a coherent sentence. Not that it would have done her any good. Lord Voldemort turned slowly back to her, his wand trained on her and his eyes brimming with fury.

Bellatrix began to convulse. Her body, still in a kneeling position, rose several feet into the air as she let out a cry of intense pain. It was as though she was being stabbed and bitten and shocked and torn to pieces all at once. Blood began to spill from her ears, nose, mouth, and fingernails. Her eyes were bulging and the screams of agony gave way to retching sounds and then returned.

For minutes this went on; Bella wailing and gagging, blood oozing from her very pores. Lucius couldn't help himself but watch this spectacle. He was terrified. There was no way to know what the Dark Lord had done to his wife, but he had to be a little grateful that she was at least spared the sight that he was being forced to witness. He could only hope that she'd not be awakened to see what punishment he would undoubtedly receive. He tried not to let himself dwell on his impending torture and instead focus his energy toward puzzling out what he ought to do next.

It was as if the Dark Lord had noticed Lucius' attention leaving Him. He dropped Bella's limp body onto the crystal-strewn carpet and turned his wand on Lucius. Malfoy stood, knowing what was coming to him and hoping only that he could move far enough from Narcissa that she would be spared any fallout from the Dark Lord's curses. Lord Voldemort stabbed his wand through the air and Lucius felt himself propelled toward the door by a sharp pain through this chest.

"Escaped, Lucius?" The Dark Lord hissed, stabbing his wand through the air again, spurring Lucius further through the door and into the hall. "Escaped?" he asked again, his voice rising from a whisper to a roar. He flicked his wand through the air, knocking Lucius off of his feet and sending him careening further toward the back of the house. The curses flew over and over until Lucius found himself splayed on the floor of the former statuary hall.

He caught a glimpse of the fire lighting itself in the grate at the end of the room before feeling his whole body seize up. He had been on the receiving end of the Cruciatus from Lord Voldemort more than once in the past, but he had never in memory experienced pain like this moment. His skin felt as though it was at the same time on fire and being torn off of his body in strips. He could still hear the voice of Lord Voldemort coming in fragments over the sound of his own groans and cries.

"From your house! From you, Lucius! I should kill you for this! You deserve no better than the Muggle filth and blood traitors! Wandless…impossible! Your whole family…" Lucius' tortured and terrified mind was unable to process or make sense of the Dark Lord's ranting. He struggled at first to remain conscious, to survive this brutal treatment with his faculties somewhat intact. He feared in the moments of waning agony what was to become of his family when the Dark Lord had finished with him. But his body defeated his will to remain awake and he felt himself slowly falling away.

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More later- I had to split this day into two chapters, but the rest is getting worked on right now. Remember that reviews are the driving force in my life. :)

-MQ


	7. Fallout

_I went to my rooms like mother told me to, it wasn't like I could think of anything better to do. But even from there, I could hear the screams from downstairs. Bellatrix I was used to screaming; she was mad and loud and we all knew it. But the sound of my father's wailing was too much for my ears. I went to put an Imperturbatus on my bedroom, and it was then that I realized that your father had gotten away with my wand._

_It seemed like forever before the house finally fell silent again. The silence was almost as frightening as the screaming. I couldn't know what was happening. I had no idea if my parents were alive or dead, and I didn't know whether or not the Dark Lord was laying in wait for me to come looking. I was scared to stay where I was, but even more scared to go and see downstairs._

Narcissa came to in a heap on the drawing room floor. She heard the crystal and chain crunching and scraping beneath her as she tried to sit up. As she tried to support herself, her right hand landed on a large shard of broken crystal, which cut a gash deep and long across her palm. She sucked in a pained breath as she instinctively looked down at her newest wound. As she looked again to her surroundings, her eyes landed on a dark sliver sticking out from beneath a pile of shattered crystal. She leaned behind herself and took hold of it with her fingertips.

She felt at once a relief that she had no idea was possible under these circumstances. Her wand! She had found her wand. Narcissa looked across the room at a grumbling and whimpering Bellatrix, who had flopped herself in to a chair and was muttering things under her breath that Narcissa preferred not overhear. Choosing to ignore her sister, Narcissa gathered herself and crept from the room into the entrance hall.

There were bodies in there; three of them, and she couldn't tell at all whether they were dead or alive. She could hope for the latter, but she knew that might not be a well placed hope. She felt suddenly overcome, bile rising in her gut was too much for her to take and she collapsed onto her knees and vomited there on the carpet. She heard herself sob at that; she hadn't been ill like that since she was pregnant. Narcissa was mortified and suddenly thankful that she was alone at the moment.

Once she was sure that the nausea had passed, she stood and pointed her wand at the rug, vanishing the mess that had been left there by her own weakness. The wound on her hand was still open and red blood dripped from the end of her wand as it continued to spill from her palm. Narcissa shut her eyes and tried to find her way to where Lucius might be.

Early in their marriage, it had been a game between the two of them; losing each other in their enormous mansion and using their own powers of Legillimency to find each other. She had always been adept at this, and so now she drew on whatever resources her mind had remaining for her to draw on and tried to discern the location of her husband. She wasn't able to get a sense of him at all, but something in herself told her to look in the statuary hall.

At first, it was difficult to discern whether or not Lucius was here, as she regarded the floor of the wasted room. Several of the floor-to-ceiling windows had been blasted out and the glass littered the marble floor in a thicker layer than the chards of chandelier did in the drawing room. What had until today remained of the statues and pedestals that had lined the south wall were now blasted apart and lying in pieces all over; some of them having been flung through the plate glass of the windows and out onto the veranda.

When she spotted her husband, crumpled and still on the concrete of the rear veranda, she dashed toward him as quickly as the blood-slicked and glass-strewn floor would allow. She had to duck through the frame of one of the busted windows to get to him, and a shard of glass caught the sleeve of her robes, tearing open the seam between the shoulder and the sleeve. Narcissa scarcely noticed as she ran the last few steps to her husband.

He was breathing. That was the first and most important thing to her. His chest rose and fell with a disturbing rattle, but he was breathing. There was not an inch of him that did not appear either bruised or bloodied. His lip was busted open, and one eye was swollen shut. He had a slice in his face along his jaw line from his chin to his left ear, and his nose was probably broken. The way he was laying said to Narcissa that his right shoulder was likely out of its socket. She placed her hands on either of his cheeks and turned his face toward her.

She was going to throw up again. There were tears on her cheeks and she hadn't even felt them beginning to fall. Her tears fell onto his face, mixing with the dirt and the blood from his assault. Narcissa knew that lying there crying wouldn't do anyone any good, although it seemed to her at that moment that she had little energy to do much else. But she knew she had to minister to this. She couldn't call a Healer, Lord Voldemort would have them murdered for seeing his headquarters.

She also knew that the wards had fallen. By whatever act or whosever doing, there was no magic protecting this house at the moment. By that she knew that she could Apparate herself and her husband upstairs. Narcissa shook her head and caught the sound of her own sob as she looked down at the beaten and shivering body of her husband. At this moment she was not entirely convinced as to her own ability to Apparate at all. She bent her head to listen briefly to Lucius' heartbeat. Drawing what strength she could from him, she raised her head and did something she hadn't done in months.

"Narmin!" she called the elf that was head of their household staff. "Narmin!" she bellowed, her voice strident and fearful. What if he was too far away? She herself had told him and the others that they should be gone from the Manor; that it wasn't safe for them. Maybe wherever he was he couldn't hear….

She wasn't given time to wonder. With a 'crack' Narmin was instantly at her side. Narcissa doubted she had ever been so happy to see anyone. "Missus," he said to her. Narcissa smiled and sniffled. "Master!" Narmin hollered once he caught sight of Lucius' limp and broken body laying on the stone floor.

"Narmin," Narcissa sighed in relief. She pulled an errant strand of hair behind her ear and looked at the over-tall elf. "Narmin, please take your master upstairs," she asked him. "Put him on the bed. Get him out of these clothes. I'll be up in a minute." The elf nodded his head; his mouth stood agape at the condition in which he had found his family and his house. Narmin grabbed his master by the wrist and with a 'crack' the two of them were gone. Narcissa stood slowly and turned to come back into the house.

She cane through the door this time, passing quickly through the statuary hall and through the vestibule into the entry hall and onto the grand staircase. Slowly, she began to alight the stairs, one hand on the banister and the other lifting her tattered skirts so that she'd not trip on them on her way up. One by one she made her way up the twenty nine steps that led to the mezzanine, and she felt herself dragging her feet beneath her as she reached the small stairs leading to the private floor.

Some outside force seemed to be pulling her up the small curving stairway and down the hall to her bedroom door. She passed through the opening and closed the door behind her. Narmin had done as she asked; Lucius was laid out on the bed, his head on his pillow and a blanket pulled up over his waist. His bare chest was discolored and his breathing seemed labored as he struggled to draw breath in through this swollen mouth and bleeding nose.

"Missus should change her robes," Narmin commented. "Missus should look after herself."

"I should," Narcissa half heartedly agreed. She took a sharp turn to her right and entered the closet she shared with her husband. With her wand, she vanished the filthy and shredded pewter and black taffeta she was wearing and quickly divested herself of her under things, vanishing them as well as they hit the floor. Her ruined stockings, torn camisole, and blood-stained shoes were to her but a testament of the horror this night had wrought and she would certainly not miss seeing them.

Narcissa snatched a black cotton housedress off of a nearby hanger and threw them on without so much as bothering to tie up the sash. She ambled back into her bedroom and crossed to where her husband was laying. She pointed her wand at the stool to her vanity, summoning it to her husband's bedside and seating herself near his head. She ran her fingers through her hair, noticing for the first time the crusted blood that had clumped in places.

There was suddenly a series of 'crack's and the Malfoys' other three house elves stood behind Narcissa. She smiled at the three of them as they began to scurry around the room, finding things to take care of. Ooble, the fattest of the four, snapped her fingers sending a pair of silver chopsticks through the air that tied Narcissa's hair neatly into a bun on the back of her head.

"Master will need to eat!" one of the others exclaimed. Narcissa nodded.

"Yes," she agreed in a hoarse whisper. "Could you bring up…?"

"The asparagus soup," the fourth elf finished her sentence for her. "Master always will have the asparagus soup when he isn't well." Narcissa nodded. She wouldn't have known that. Lucius was never ill; not really. She had no idea what he might have liked. She was suddenly more grateful than ever that these elves, who had known him since infancy, were here to help.

"Yes," she said again. "Yes, thank you Kibbitt, Lollie," she regarded the two elves from the kitchen before they Disapparated, ostensibly to the kitchen to start a pot of soup.

"Ooble will fetch the potions," the fat one called, Disapparating herself and reappearing moments later with a large metal box.

"Thank you," Narcissa said again, taking the box from her elf and placing it on the bedside table. "See to it that Draco is okay," she implored them. As worried as she was about her son, she could not bring herself to leave her husband's side with him in such a condition.

"Young master will be taken care of," Narmin told her. A 'crack' and he was gone. Narcissa opened the box that Ooble had brought to her and withdrew the small vial of Essence of Dittany and then shook her head and replaced it in the box.

"Could you get me a drink, Ooble?" she asked. "A bottle of something," she clarified.

"What would Missus like?" she asked, her eyes growing wide at the possibility of such inexact instructions. Narcissa thought for a moment. Truly she would have liked to have gotten very drunk at that moment. But perhaps there were better ways to handle her inner turmoil.

"Bring up a bottle of the Romanee Conti," she instructed. Leave it to breath on the coffee table in the sitting room."

"Right away, Missus," Ooble agreed. "And then Ooble will pick up the house and change the sheets and dust the rafters and…"

"No, Ooble," she instructed her elf. "You must keep yourself out of harm."

"Ooble can fight back," she told her mistress. "A house elf should be with her family," she contended. "Master and Missus need us." Narcissa sighed. The little elf was right. She did need them or she would never have called. She nodded her head and smiled as best she could. Ooble smiled back at her and was gone from sight with a 'crack'.

Narcissa looked back at her husband. She took a deep breath and passed her wand over his torso, muttering an incantation under her breath that she hadn't so much as tried to recall since her NEWT's. But from somewhere inside of her, the words came. The string of Latin syllables left her lips as though she had no control over what she was saying. Lucius' face contorted in pain as she began, but once she had finished, he appeared to have relaxed, and his breathing seemed easier.

She reached again into the box at her husband's bedside and withdrew the same bottle as before. Removing the stopper, she daubed the liquid onto her index finger and then gently onto Lucius' swollen lip. The bottle was low, and there were no more ingredients to be had in the house. She could send one of the elves out, but it would be dangerous for them and Dittany took more than a month to properly distill. She didn't have that kind of time. She repeated her actions with the potion on her finger and the corner of his mouth, and then gave the same treatment to the slice in his jaw.

Every moment she felt ill. She had never been able to bear the sight of blood, and she was actually proud of herself for not having fainted. "Lucius," she whispered, again touching his face with a drop of potion on her finger. "Open your eyes," she implored. "Open your eyes and look at me?" He did no such thing.

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More later. I promise. Reviews are better than wine and chocolate; two things I think I'm going to require in order to get past this chapter of brutality.

-MQ


	8. A Mother's Lie

_Father still hadn't woken when it was time to leave for the train. Mother hadn't slept; she hadn't eaten, I had never seen her a mess before. In fact, I couldn't remember seeing her with a hair out of place. She was as big a wreck as the house._

_I was terrified. My parents in that state… it was the first time I really saw them as people as fallible and s breakable as I was. That's a scary moment- realizing that mum and dad are mortal and that everything is not alright just because they're there._

_She could barely stand up. I wouldn't have let her come with me to the train if she had insisted. And I thought her heart would break when I told her I had lost my wand in the battle the night before._

_And so she handed me hers._

_There was only one wand left between the three of us and she gave it to me. I still had to be an example at school. And I still had to pass my NEWT's. She said I needed it more than she did. So I left for my last term at school with my mother's wand and a completely new view of the world._

_It wasn't long until I learned that everyone else's view had changed as well. The Dark Lord had made it known that my family had failed him. We were in disgrace; truly. No one on one side would have anything to do with us because of my father's open affiliation with the Dark Lord, and no one on the other side would have anything to do with us for our failure where that was concerned. Even my two best friends were barely speaking to me._

_It went on like that for weeks. It was nearing the end of term when we were all called into the Great Hall and told that Lord Voldemort was making a move on the school. What I didn't know then was that he'd dragged my parents along with him._

"Cissa," Lucius Malfoy sighed as he finally came upon his wife. She was sitting on the remnants of a rotting stump in the rear of the clearing that the Death Eaters had used for muster. Nobody seemed to be paying her any mind, and she stared blankly out into the group.

"Lucius," she greeted him, reaching out both of her hands to him. He took his wife's hands and squeezed them tenderly.

"He's in the shrieking shack," Lucius told her. "He seems to think the battle will stop on its own. He seems to think Potter will come to him."

"And what of Draco?" Narcissa asked, her lower lip beginning to tremble. Lucius shook his head.

"He's not there," was his answer. Lucius and Narcissa had looked for their son when the students of Slytherin had left the castle nearly an hour earlier, and having failed to find him, had presumed him once again at the Dark Lord's side. "I've just sent Severus to Him," Lucius shared. "I think it'll be over tonight," he asserted.

"One can only hope so," she answered, looking up into his eyes. "I didn't see Severus," she shared. "I wonder how…" Narcissa's train of thought was interrupted by the booming and terrible voice of Lord Voldemort announcing a cease fire, and calling for Harry Potter to surrender himself. He would wait for an hour in the Forbidden Forest. So the Dark Lord was coming to them. Narcissa shuddered. She did not want to see Him.

She had managed to avoid the Dark Lord's presence since the night they had lost Harry Potter. She stayed in her rooms and He had left them, for the most part, alone. Lucius had been out for three whole days, and his wounds had yet to heal fully. Bella had occasionally come upstairs to pester the Malfoys, having been told that she was confined to quarters and going quite stir crazy with the inability to maim or kill. Narcissa had known from that that her decision to remain in her rooms was a sound one.

It had been a cackling and excited Bellatrix that had delivered the news that they were to come to Hogsmeade this night. She had a new wand, and she was more than a little bit anxious to try it out on the first spot of resistance she met with; aching to prove once again her undying devotion to the Dark Lord and his cause. Narcissa figured that her sister had nicked this wand off of one of the men she'd stepped over in the vestibule. She had ordered Draco to kill them in the garden; an order which he had not followed, and it would not have surprised Narcissa if Bellatrix had finished them off presently.

It was Bellatrix who made it to the clearing the fastest. The forces from the castle had begun their retreat, and it seemed as though Bella had been at a flat run every inch from the castle gates to the clearing. She was obviously eager to show the Dark Lord with what ferocity she would follow any order; eager as well to be once again in His presence.

The Dark Lord arrived shortly thereafter, with his giant snake slithering in some sort of magical enclosure above him. Over the next several minutes the remainder of their contingent managed to make it back into the clearing, a few of them worse for the wear, but each one accounted for. A fire was lit at some point, and there was a bottle being passed, or maybe two. Someone had captured the gamekeeper; the half-giant that Draco so detested. Narcissa thought she overheard a conversation about tying him up. And it wasn't long until a pair of true giants seated themselves behind their position.

People were milling about, some of them sitting on the ground, others finding a place to lean and a few of them conjuring themselves a proper chair. There were conversations about body counts and creative torture. Narcissa tried her best not to take notice of any of this.

Her attention was constantly to the Dark Lord. He stood stock still in the center of the clearing. The small groups of Death Eaters and others that had formed saw to it to give Him proper clearance lest he choose to make a move. Only the fire was near to him, and he seemed not to take the slightest notice. Some consensus was made to patrol the periphery. None of this mattered to Narcissa.

All she really wanted at this moment was to run. She wanted to run from this clearing and this filthy place up to the castle and to find what had become of her only child. But she knew she would be dead before she got past the fire. None present would shrink from murdering her; and none would likely be punished were they to do so. So she sat quietly, staring blankly into the fire, and not daring to let go of her husband's hand.

It was short for an hour. Dolohov and Yaxley, the last of the patrols had returned. The group had slowly fallen silent as the time had passed with no sign of Harry Potter. Time must be nearly past if Yaxley and Dolohov were back. The silence was broken when Dolohov addressed the Dark Lord.

"No sign of him, my lord," he said. Narcissa could only see Lord Voldemort's back, silhouetted against the glowing fire. Bellatrix, who had dared get the closest to Him, began to speak then.

"My lord," she addressed him. But Voldemort cut her off. He raised his hand to silence her, and she obeyed as she always did.

"I thought he would come," the Dark Lord said; more to himself, it seemed, than to the rest of them. "I had expected him to come." Lucius Malfoy squeezed his wife's hand; both of them were afraid of what might come next. Would the battle resume? Would the Dark Lord himself enter the fray as he said he would? The future from that moment seemed a very daunting prospect. "I was, it seems…mistaken," He said again. There was an inaudible gasp from the assembled warriors and Bellatrix looked suddenly as though she was about to cry. The Dark Lord did not admit his mistakes lightly.

"You weren't!" The sound rang out through the group of them; louder than the gasps or the stirring of robes. It was Harry Potter's voice.

The world broke open at that moment. Giants roaring, Death Eaters shouting, Bellatrix cackling like the mad woman she had truly become. Lucius and Narcissa pulled back from the group, clutching each other and trying their best to stay out of the way of the chaos that they both were certain was about to ensue.

And then it was quiet again; deathly quiet. Everyone was on tenterhooks as the wandless Harry Potter stood before the thoughtful-looking Voldemort. "Harry Potter," the Dark Lord greeted the boy, "the boy who lived." His voice sounded to all there like he was reading the boy's epitaph. And it would be that, all present were certain. The Dark Lord raised his wand and trained it on the boy, who made no move after his own wand, leaving the others to wonder if he had perhaps lost it in the castle.

Harry Potter stood fast, facing the Dark Lord as the words left the larger man's lips.

_AVADA KEDAVRA!_

A flash of green light. Harry Potter fell where he stood.

But something had gone wrong; terribly wrong. The Dark Lord was knocked off of His feet, landing squarely on His back several feet from where He had been standing when His curse was cast. Bellatrix raced to him, screaming as though she had just been run through. She was sobbing. Narcissa could not remember the last time she had seen her sister cry, and Lucius was sure that he never had.

Moments passed. No one knew what to do. There were whispers, the sounds of the shuffling of cloaks, and the sight of several Death Eaters removing their masks. They were an army with no general. They were a cause without a leader. And no one had any idea what should happen next.

And then he stirred. Slightly, barely; the Dark Lord started. He drew in a sharp breath.

"My lord!" Bella was wailing. "My LORD!" There was more anguish in her voice as she called out to Voldemort than there had ever been in the telling of the death of her husband. "My lord, let me," she begged to be of use. Lord Voldemort started to his feet, hushing Bella as he rebuked her offer of a hand up.

"I do not require assistance," he said to her, his voice as cold as hers had been impassioned. He regarded his opponent's still form across the clearing. It was clear to all present that whatever had just happened was at least partially unintended. "The boy," he said, looking suspiciously at Harry. "Is he dead?" No one gave an answer. Voldemort turned to his amassed followers, wand drawn, and stopped when his eyes landed on the Malfoys.

Still holding to each other; Lucius and Narcissa remained in the back of the group. Lucius now sat on the stump and his wife stood behind him, her hands on her shoulders and her eyes fixed on the Potter boy. She did not even see the Dark Lord looking at her until he addressed her directly. "You," he called at Narcissa. A bang issued from his wand and whatever the curse had been, it hit her squarely in the face. She made a slight, involuntary noise and looked down at her husband as if to apologize for her lapse in decorum. Lucius looked back at her and squeezed her hand as he watched her cheek start turning purplish and beginning to swell and as a tiny trickle of blood escaped her left nostril. "Examine him," the Dark Lord ordered her, "tell me whether he is dead."

Narcissa squeezed her husband's shoulder and walked slowly over to the body of Harry Potter. He looked so small laying there on the forest floor; so young. She bent down over him and touched him. She had feared him cold and dead, had prepared herself for the reality of touching Harry Potter's corpse. But to her surprise, his skin was warm; he was at least a little bit alive. Se felt his chest for his heartbeat. Harry Potter was not only alive, but aware of her touch. She was sure of it as she felt his pulse quicken at her touch. She bent further toward him, making certain that her hair fell about her face enough to mask what she was about to do.

Harry Potter had just come from the castle. If her son lived through the battle, Harry Potter would know. If the Dark Lord caught her asking, she was dead and she knew it. But she truly believed that they were all dead if things went Lord Voldemort's way tonight. She leaned her face next to Harry's, hopefully those watching her would presume to check for breathing. "Is Draco alive?" she asked him in the quietest whisper she had ever been able to produce. "Is he in the castle?" And Harry Potter drew in a shallow breath and exhaled the most important word that Narcissa had ever heard spoken.

"Yes," Harry whispered, almost inaudibly. She wanted to weep. She wanted to scream and to run; but she couldn't. She had to play this through and to do that, she had to keep herself together. She took one last very deep breath and the tension in her body seemed to ebb from every pore. She unconsciously dug her fingernails into Harry Potter's chest before she rose and looked the Dark Lord in his demonic eyes.

And lied through her teeth.

"He's dead," she announced, as coolly and calmly as she might have announced dinner or the arrival of the daily paper. Chaos erupted around her. There were squeals and cheers and hugs and laughter. Bellatrix was singing and cackling at the top of her voice, and sparks were flying from wands hefted toward the sky in victory. There was a full scale celebration breaking out, and Narcissa barely gave it notice. She crossed intently to her husband and embraced him, ostensibly in celebration of their victory. Lucius somehow did not seem as happy as the other present Death Eaters.

She knew then that she had to tell him. She was aware, as she watched Harry Potter's limo body being tossed around at the whim of the Dark Lord's wand, that what she'd just done might have amounted to suicide. Harry Potter could give away his survival at any second and she would certainly be killed on the spot. She had to tell her husband what she had learned. "Lucius," she whispered into his ear, still embracing him with her head against his shoulder. "So you remember the news I brought you in Azkaban?" she asked.

Of course he remembered. It had been only weeks before his unscheduled release that she had come to see him. He had been told the story of his son's death, and she had come to ease his mind with the news that Draco had not, in fact, been killed in Bombay. Lucius pulled away from her just far enough to look her in the eye. What was she saying? "Cissa?" he asked, unsure of just what was happening.

"That news holds true to this moment," she assured him, the look in her eyes telling him that she knew this as fact. His eyes went suddenly from her face to the body of Harry Potter, now being handed to Hagrid so that all could have a look as they marched on Hogwarts. Lucius then looked back to Narcissa, who was nodding her head.

He knew in that instant what she had done. It was unbelievable. Few people had openly defied the Dark Lord and lived to tell about it. She still mightn't. Harry Potter would undoubtedly show himself to be alive at some juncture; and Lord Voldemort was likely to come after Narcissa for having deceived him. Lucius felt tears coming into his eyes as the group began moving to leave the clearing. He embraced her again, kissing the top of her head and lacing his fingers through her silky hair. "I love you," he told her. It was all he could think to say.

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A/N: In case anyone has failed to notice: this chapter contains quotes from _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_; the book with which this story has thusfar run concurrently. No infringement is intended, I merely wanted to remain faithful to the canon- and I couldn't do so without the exact dialog.

Let me know what you thought!!!!!!! You KNOW you want to hit the review button **_now_**...

-MQ


	9. Battle for Blood

_Let me back up for a minute…._

_If I'd have known that my parents were in the Forbidden Forest, I might have evacuated with the rest of my house when McGonnagall ordered us to. But I didn't know they were there, and besides: I had my own agenda. I knew that your father was in the castle, and I knew that the Dark Lord still wanted him more than anything else._

_If I could bring Him Harry Potter, then maybe he'd let us be. We followed him, we even had him cornered. There's a room at Hogwarts where missing things end up; and that's where my friends and I found your father and his friends. Crabbe and Goyle, my two mates, kept trying to kill him, and Crabbe wound up setting the room on fire trying to take him out. There were a lot of spells flying about, and your father had my wand; the one he had taken from me in our drawing room on that awful night._

_The fire got out of control really quickly, and we couldn't find the door. We were still dueling, and I lost my mother's wand in the chaos. I suppose it was your father that found the first broomstick; he was a right fair flyer in those days, maybe even as good as your mother. They were flying; him and your uncle, and your father saved my life. He pulled Goyle and me out of there._

_We'd never gotten along; your dad and me and I'd been ready to turn him over to Lord Voldemort five minutes earlier, but he saved my life anyway. He's a good man; your father. They left me just outside of the Room of Lost Things, and I know I passed out. By the time I came to, Goyle was nowhere to be seen, and there were Death Eaters on me._

_I yelled at them that I was on their side, but it seemed not to matter. I wondered what might have become of my parents that these people would be willing to just murder me as though no one would care. Your father came upon this and he saved my bloody life again. That was twice in one night that my so-called enemies had saved my hide and two people from 'my side' who'd tried to kill me. I decided then and there that I was finished. I was having no more of this battle no matter what._

_I remember hearing Lord Voldemort call the cease fire and that all I wanted to do was have a bloody mug of cocoa and a sleep. Truly, I was hoping your father would go out and meet him and bloody kill him. I had reached a point where I wanted him dead; not just out of my house and out of my sight; not just defeated… I wanted him bloody cold and dead._

_I spent nearly a whole hour trying to get back into the Room of Lost Things. I knew that it had been on fire and that maybe it still was; but my mum's wand was in there and I was surely no use to either side without it. I never did get in. I remember there was a dull roar the whole time, and then it got suddenly very quiet._

_And then there was noise again; but this time from outside the castle. Lord Voldemort was shouting again; but I was so high up and so deep in the castle, I couldn't make out what he was saying. And there were cheers coming and going… I couldn't tell about them._

Draco scrambled from where he'd landed. How had he never noticed the damnable lack of windows in this castle? He ran from one end of the seemingly eternal hallway to the other and back again without encountering a single portal to the outside.

The noise was maddening. In volleys came an ever tilting series of cheers and protestations and Draco strained his ears in attempt to recognize voices. A voice; any voice from either side would at least let him know something. Something; he had to learn what had happened. He had to know which side had won. Someone had; certainly. That had to be why the yelling and the cheering and yet not a sound of magic or of pain.

Lord Voldemort was clearly still alive. Was Harry Potter? Had Potter turned himself in? Had he done what the Dark Lord asked of him? Was he still alive? So many questions and not one blessed window through which he could see the answer.

Draco sped down the nearest staircase and through the narrow and winding corridors to an area where he knew there would be a view of outside. Damn it! He found himself wholly and inexplicably on the completely wrong side of the castle. Poking his head out of the window only distorted the sound that much more and made for an even more difficult time discerning just what the hell was going on.

He didn't waste too much time with his head out of the utterly wrong window. Draco turned and shook his head; wishing heartily he could just hear something discernable. He ran hard and fast to the far side of the castle. His heart was pounding in his ears and he was pretty sure he was going to pass out by the time he reached a window facing the action.

And there was action at that. There was a battle raging after all. There were giants and centaurs, Death Eaters and people in pajamas. But no sign of Harry Potter. Had he fallen? Curses were flying left and right and there was a deafening amount of noise. Draco had wanted so badly to hear something and now he wished that the damned noise would stop. He could hear the din of the fray; the screaming of those caught in the Cruciatus and the battle cries from both sides rang so loudly that Draco could hear them even over the sound of his own coughing. He couldn't catch his breath. The acrid smell of smoke and his own singed hair filled his nostrils with every breath as the soot on his person angered his lungs. His eyes felt prickly as though he was still standing in the smoke and he was certain that a singe in the right leg of his trousers would, when the adrenaline passed from his system, herald an epic burn in his calf.

A patch of white caught his eye. Amidst the melee of dark and hooded Death Eaters a pair of blonde-headed people standing stock still was rather easily spotted. Draco felt his heart leap into his chest at the sight of his parents. They were near to the back of the fracas; a wise decision for a couple who hadn't a wand between them. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy clung to each other; they looked terrified.

And it infuriated their son. After all; this had been a war over blood, hadn't it? Lucius Malfoy had chosen to follow the Dark Lord into a revolution that would lead pure blooded wizards to their rightful place. But a Malfoy's rightful place was certainly not at the rear of a battle cowering in fear. Blood was what mattered to Draco; not a supposed cause, not a political agenda. This was supposed to have been about pure wizard blood; and that was what was being spilt at this moment in the name of a revolution which Draco realized very suddenly would never happen.

Were Harry Potter alive or dead it no longer mattered. If the Boy Who Lived had, in fact, expired this night, then the Dark Lord would undoubtedly find another obsession. Things would never be the way that they had been led to believe they would be; never. And at that moment all that mattered to Draco was blood; his blood.

He thought to try and get his parents' attention from his vantage point on the fifth floor, but he knew that they would never think to look any further than was required to avoid the spells, arrows, and giants' feet that could prove fatal were they not avoided properly. And he also knew that there was no way for him to call out over the cacophony of battle noises.

But he also knew that he couldn't rightly go down there without a wand. His coughing overtook him again and he had to brace himself against the window sill to keep from being knocked over by the force of his own lungs. When he looked back at the chaos below, his parents were nowhere to be seen. He searched the crowd with his eyes; hoping desperately to catch a glimpse of his father's white-blonde hair, or his mother's golden tresses; but they were nowhere.

Draco knew somehow that they had come into the castle. They'd not have been able to go anyplace else. He mentally mapped out the fastest way from where he was at the moment to the entrance hall, where he could only hope he would find his mother and father. Draco knew somehow that they might all be dead by the end of the night, but he also knew that, no matter what mental state his father might have been in, his mother would not have entered the castle in the heat of battle for any reason other than to find her son; and that was doubly the case for doing do without a wand.

Draco squared his jaw and took as deep a breath as his damaged lungs would allow and then headed as quickly as his feet could carry him toward the ground floor of the castle.

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FFDN was down last night- ick! Thanks for all of the kind words... those of you who have reviewed this far... And for those of you who haven't: pretty please?

More later or tomorrow.

-MQ


	10. Found and Lost

_My parents eventually found me. I heard my name being called and it took me a minute to realize it was my mother calling to me. I'm not sure I'd ever heard her voice raised in my whole life. They found me on the stairs between the third and fourth floor and the three of us just collapsed where we were._

_I had never been so scared and so relieved all at once. _

"We've got to get out of here," Narcissa Malfoy sighed, seating herself on the pock-marked stone stairs.

"Where will we go?" Draco asked his mother, trying his best to conceal the extent of his injuries from his parents. Narcissa shook her head and looked at her husband. Lucius was staring off into nowhere, his shoulders were shaking, and he seemed as though nothing could have pulled him into the conversation. He took a deep and shaky breath and shrugged his shoulders.

"He'll find us," Lucius sighed, fear and trepidation in his voice. Narcissa took her husband's hand and clenched her jaw. He was glaring at his left forearm and shaking his head. "Wherever we try to hide, he'll find us."

"That's not true," Draco contended. "There are places…" he added. Draco knew that there were places where wizards could hide. He'd been to one in Morocco. That was how he had managed to get away after Dumbledore's murder. No one had found him there. Sanctuary existed; Draco knew it.

"No Draco," his father argued. "With this," he placed his right hand over his sleeve, beneath which Draco knew lay the slithering and burning Dark Mark. "As long as these Marks exist, he can find us no matter where we are." Draco nodded. He knew that his father was right; that the Dark Lord commanded power over the Mark and that no Death Eater would be able to hide from Him well or for long. Lucius choked back a sob and looked his wife in the eye. "You could go, Cissa," he said to her. "The Dark Lord would believe that you'd left me. He'd leave you alone… I'm sure he would. You'd be safe."

Narcissa gasped and shook her head. "I could never do that," she told him, a tremor beginning to seep in to her voice. "I'm not going anywhere, Lucius," she assured him. "Not without you," she clarified. Lucius took his wife's face in his hands and kissed her fully on the mouth. Draco couldn't even bring himself to look away.

But then it came to him. It was like a flashback; like a memory of a memory. There was a way.

"New Orleans," Draco said, half to himself. His parents remembered themselves at the sound of their son's voice.

"What was that Draco?" his father asked.

"New Orleans," Draco repeated. He had never been so happy to have paid attention in class. There had been a teaching assistant in History of Magic from mid way through fourth year until nearly the end of sixth. She'd become one of Draco's closest friends, and had been the one who got him to Marrakech when he needed to escape. But more than that, she'd been a good teacher; and she had taught him something that he suddenly had use for. "Hartlestead talked about it in class," he told his parents. "There's a hex breaker in New Orleans; a bloke named Laveau who says he can break any spell cast by any wizard. If anyone could get the Mark off…"

"That's brilliant, Draco," Narcissa smiled as she told her son. "We can get to New Orleans," she affirmed. "That's easy; all it takes is money, and if there's one thing we have left…" Lucius closed his eyes and chuckled. It was the truth. Lord Voldemort had managed to take a lot from the Malfoys but their fortune was still intact.

All of a sudden Lucius' chuckling ceased. The color drained from his face and his eyes rolled back in his head. He managed to grab hold of his wife's hand before he fell over backwards. He was convulsing, literally foaming at the mouth, and slipping down the stairs as Narcissa tried her damnedest to keep hold of him. "Lucius," she shouted, her hands on his shoulders and her face just inches above his.

Just then Draco felt an unbearable pain through his entire body and he fought the urge to cry out, fearing his mother's ability to deal with multiple crises under the circumstances. He fell back against the stair railings and concentrated on trying to catch his breath. The pain was positively unbearable, but more so was the idea of distressing his mother further.

"Lucius!" Narcissa called again. As though Lucius could hear her cries, as suddenly as they had started, the convulsions ceased. His head fell hard against the stone stair. He lay limp against the uneven surface. Draco managed to catch his breath and he skittered down the few steps to where his parents were. Narcissa had gathered her husband's head into her lap using the folds of her skirts as a pillow for him to lie against. Draco reached his mother's side and reached over to take her hand.

And that's when he knew. Voldemort was dead. It had to be. The inky black mark on his left arm had faded to a grey and pink scar. It wasn't moving; it didn't hurt. The pain he had just felt had been the spell breaking; he was sure of it. And he was certain as well that the same had been what was affecting his father. Of course it would be harder on Lucius than it had been on Draco; his Mark had been upon him for a quarter of a century.

"It's alright, mother," Draco whispered, squeezing Narcissa's hand. Lucius began to stir, making a mumbling noise as his head began to switch back and forth. Narcissa gathered a fold of clean fabric from the inner lining of her skirt and wiped as much of the dirt and the blood and the spit from her husband's face as she could while she waited for his eyes to open. "It's alright," Draco repeated. Narcissa looked briefly at her son and then back down at Lucius. "Mum," Draco addressed her again, trying his best to assure her that he was in no way making an empty promise. "Look," he instructed, pulling up the torn sleeve of his shirt to fully expose the defunct Dark Mark.

Narcissa gasped. She knew what that meant. She reached over carefully and rolled the sleeve up on her husband's robes. The Mark had never looked like this. She had seen it on the night Lucius had taken it onto himself; and in its full blackness for the first six years of their marriage. She had seen it fade and grow pinker and lighter over the years between the wars, and she had watched intently as it had again darkened and quickened just a few short years ago. But this was a state altogether unknown.

The Mark was bleeding, as though it had been pricked with pins along its length. It was faded, not as black as it had been of late, and it was still. Lucius' Mark was in worse state than Draco's, but neither of them seemed to be altogether proper. Narcissa ran her fingers across her husband's clammy forehead before turning back to her son.

"Do you think it could be?" She could only hope that Draco's contention that all would be well was because he suspected, as she was beginning to herself, that the Dark Lord had been defeated. Draco nodded his head just as he saw his father's eyes opening. "The Dark Lord has fallen," Narcissa spoke, hopeful and yet somehow almost certain. She had felt something lifting off of herself as well; that had to be the answer.

The sounds of battle had died down very suddenly and all three Malfoys were aware of an almost deafening silence in the hall with them. Lucius sat up and regarded his left arm. He shook his head and sighed, pulling himself up to a stand with one hand on the banister and the other around Narcissa's waist.

"I think it's over," Narcissa sighed, looking teary-eyed back and forth between Lucius and Draco.

"I think so," Lucius agreed, pulling her closer. He reached his other hand out until he could squeeze his son's shoulder.

"I need to see," Draco told his parents. He knew that Vincent Crabbe was dead, but h had no idea what had happened to his other friends. He didn't know where Goyle was or Pansy, or Professor Snape or anyone else, and he needed to see who was still here. He needed to be down there. Lucius nodded and Narcissa smiled at both of them.

"Let's go see," she agreed as the three of them started down the stairs and toward the Great Hall.

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More soon, almost to the end. :) Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and I'm so glad to see some old friends joining in. YAY!!

-MQ


	11. Ashes

_The Great Hall was full of people. Everyone was milling around and trying to find each other. I never saw any of my friends. I found out eventually that they were all ok, but that night I just didn't know anything._

_There were bodies from one end of the room to the other; some I recognized, a lot I didn't. Lord Voldemort was easy enough to spot. I thought my mother was going to cry when she saw aunt Bellatrix lying there next to the Dark Lord; but I think the Blacks have something hard wired into them that keeps them from crying in public. _

_I say 'them'… I mean us. Aunt Bella was dead and I think that mother was almost relieved. Father was; I'm sure. I think it was hard for us to even fathom that it was really over. _

_Food was being served and I remember being given an enormous goblet of wine. Mother recognized one of the house elves as having worked for her uncle and she sent him to fetch potions for the burns on my leg and when he got back I asked him quietly to fetch my mother's wand if he could._

Kreacher came back from his errand more quickly than Draco could have imagined. He sat on the bench at the Slytherin table pressing a poultice onto his burned with his mother next to him and his father on the far bench being tended to by a seventh year Hufflepuff girl with a tray of potions and spellotape around her wand. Narcissa was too concerned with Draco's and Lucius' injuries to even entertain having her own injuries tended to. When the elf appeared again, Draco winced at what he had in his hand.

Narcissa's wand was barely more than ash. It had been reduced from its original nine inches to no more than four and it looked as though it was about to crumble in the little elf's hands. Draco took it carefully and set it on the table before his mother. He couldn't bear looking at her when she saw it.

"I…" he didn't know what to say. It was the last wand left in their family and it was destroyed. "I lost it trying to get out of the fire," he explained. Narcissa looked at the charred remnants of her wand and placed a hand on the back of her son's head.

"It's just a wand, Draco," she comforted him. "Thank you, Kreacher," she addressed to the elf. "I appreciate this."

"You are welcome, Miss Cissy," The elf answered her. "Call Kreacher if you need more." The little elf trotted off toward the kitchens and Narcissa looked down at her charred wand again.

"It's just a thing," she added, sounding suspiciously as though she were trying to convince herself. "It's not important."

"We'll need new ones," Lucius posited, pulling from his inside pocket the splintered remains of his own wand. He set his destroyed wand beside his wife's and shook his head, trying to ignore the ministrations of the young lady attempting to repair the wound on the back of his head that had been caused by falling against the stairs. Narcissa nodded, reaching a hand across the table to him. He took her hand and squeezed lightly. "All three of us will be needing new ones," he clarified.

Draco frowned. He couldn't quite help but think that it was his fault. If he hadn't failed to kill Dumbledore, then his father would never have fallen out of favor and the dark Lord might never have demanded his wand. And had Lucius been in possession of his wand when Harry Potter and company had turned up at the Manor, then they would never have gotten away. If they'd not have gotten away Draco would never have lost his wand and Narcissa wouldn't have lent him hers. If it hadn't been for his failings, they might not have had need of new wands at all. Draco was pulled from his self loathing by the sound of his mother's unexpectedly pleasant voice.

"I don't think Mr. Ollivander will quite hearken to the idea of making them for us," Narcissa shared.

"Did we not meet a wand maker on our last visit to St. Petersburg?" Lucius asked his wife. Narcissa smiled sweetly at him. They had at that. They had honeymooned in St. Petersburg and returned for another stay when their marriage had hit a rough patch and Draco had left for Hogwarts. She'd certainly have no objections to a return trip.

"I believe we did," she agreed. "And it would be only right that we get new wands in St Petersburg," she added.

"Why's that?" Draco asked between bites of pastry.

"You know that's where we spent our honeymoon, Draco?" his mother asked. Draco nodded.

"But why is that relevant to where we get new wands?" he asked. Narcissa put her hand over her heart and sighed.

"We were married with those wands, Draco," his mother's voice, which had moments ago sounded pleasant and almost relaxed, now sounded heavy with sorrow. "And so, since we're having to replace the wands we spoke our vows over, obtaining new ones in the city where we spent our first weeks as man and wife seems only fitting." Draco nodded. He hadn't thought of that.

He knew that a wizard's wand was used in most of the momentous occasions of his life. Wands were part of the ceremony to leave school, of weddings, christenings, inductions into certain orders, and even funerals. But Draco had yet to reach any of these milestones and so he had no particular attachment to his wand. His mother though; her marriage meant everything to her and the thought that he had been a party to destroying his mother's wand made him feel that much worse about himself.

He remembered seeing his parents' wedding photos, it had never occurred to him to look for wands in the pictures. In the few years before he left for school, his parents hadn't gotten on well and he used to sneak into the living room and look through their wedding pictures. It had made him happy as a five and six year old to know that his parents used to smile at each other the way they did in those photos.

"We'll have to renew our vows then," Lucius posed, looking to his wife to try and offer her comfort. This was heartbreaking and Draco couldn't stand it another instant.

"I'm going to go lie down," Draco said to his parents, standing from his seat and taking a step away from the table.

"We were going to try to get home tonight, Draco," Narcissa told her son. Draco shook his head.

"I'd rather stay, if it's alright," he answered. "I… I just think I had ought to be here." It was true. There was a lot to be done at Hogwarts, and Draco felt somehow as though he had a duty to be part of it. "I'll write every day," he offered by ay of negotiation.

"That won't be necessary, son," Lucius told him as he stood and closed the distance between them. He put his arm around Draco and squeezed his shoulder. "But we do expect to hear from you." Draco hugged his father; hugged him for what was likely the first time since he was small enough to be picked up and carried. Lucius smiled at his son and then seated himself on the bench beside his wife.

Draco bent down and kissed his mother's cheek before turning to leave the Great Hall and try to get some sleep in his dorm. Lucius watched as his son left and then looked across at the young lady who'd been tending to his wounds in such a way as to leave her no question that she was dismissed. Lucius put his arm around his wife.

"Is it terrible that I want to chase after him and not let him out of my sight until he's forty?" Narcissa asked quietly. Lucius chuckled under his breath.

"I believe you said the same thing when he took his first step," he cajoled.

"Don't tease me," she begged, only half sarcastically. "I can't help it."

"Of course you can't," he allowed, "any more than I can help myself but to indulge you when you have such inclinations. However, this once, I would hope to dissuade you from your impulse, pet. He's a grown man and if he needs his space in order to deal with this then…"

"I shan't follow him, love," she admitted. "I've no intention to do so; merely desire and that I have a lifetime of practice in repressing."

"That is certainly no skill you've learned with me," he growled in her ear, pulling her closer in to his side.

"No, darling," she replied, "merely one I have perfected in your presence. For, since the time of our marriage I have had to behave much more properly in your company when others are present than might have made me truly happy."

What can I do to make you happy now, my pet?" he asked her. Narcissa sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder.

"Tell me you love me?" she replied; her pat answer to that question when there was nothing more obvious and tangible that might please her.

"I love you, Narcissa," he whispered to her, fingering their two destroyed wands on the table. "That's the only truth left in the world," he confided. "You and our son… we're all alive and this madness has ended."

"Is it awful that I want to run and hide?" she asked him. "There's so much to do," she added. "How many funerals, Lucius?" she asked him rhetorically.

"Too many," Lucius answered with a sigh. "And there's nothing wrong with wanting to run and hide. I'd be pleased to never see another human being again as long as I live," he admitted.

"We should go home," she suggested.

"Or someplace with a shower and a bed," Lucius added. The truth was that getting home was a daunting prospect for the two of them. Home was miles and miles away and the both of them were without wands. It had been said that it was possible to Apparate without a wand, but the truth was that neither of the Malfoys had ever known anyone to have done so successfully. "There's a train out of Hogsmeade," he told her. Lucius pulled out his watch and examined the time. "In less than an hour," he added. It seemed as though perhaps things were looking up for them. "The train to Ayton…" he placed a tiny kiss on top of her head, uncaring as to whether or not those around him might notice. "How does a brief holiday at the shore sound to you? Indoors… the sound of the waves…" Lucius smiled at her, the new and still pink skin around his recently healed eye crinkled slightly less than the other side; but Narcissa was as charmed by this smile as she had been when she was sixteen.

"Sounds like heaven," she admitted. "Just you and me and the sound of the waves," she sighed. "It sounds like perfection." Lucius kissed the top of her head again. He withdrew from his pocket a linen handkerchief and carefully wrapped the remains of their wands within it. Tucking the parcel into his inner pocket, Lucius stood from his seat and offered his hand to Narcissa.

"Let's go, love," he encouraged. Narcissa nodded her head as she stood; her hand in his, and they headed toward the door and their holiday.

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There is one more chapter and then an epilogue- I think. More tomorrow probably. Lots of smiles to all of my lovely reviewers... you're my favorite people. :)

-MQ


	12. Victors and Vanquished

_They spent four days on the coast. My father wrote me from the train telling me where they were going and letting me know they'd have a room for me if I wanted to come and stay with them. I didn't go. I stayed at Hogwarts and helped to put the school back together._

_My wand appeared in the common room the day after the battle; I can only presume your father had it sent. I didn't blame him for not wanting to give it back to me himself. Honestly I never expected to see it again. I only found out later that he had defeated the Dark Lord with it, which made it all the more exasperating that it was ever returned to me._

_I did write to my parents to tell them about the return of my wand. They'd sent for the Russian wandmaker and I wanted to let them know not to worry about me. Having my wand back was a great feeling; I never knew how much I'd missed the feeling of having my own wand until I had it back._

_I did assist in putting the school back together. I was the only one who could get into the room where Crabbe's body was and after that I was somehow put on the committee to see that all of the bodies were claimed and by the proper people. All of the casualties from the Dark Lord's side were my responsibility; I suppose that was only fitting since no one else at Hogwarts really knew any of them. It was not the most pleasant job I'd ever had, but I at least felt better knowing that I was handling the arrangements for my aunt's funeral and leaving my parents to lick their wounds in Ayton._

Narcissa's head was buried in her pillow when Lucius snuck through the door. She snapped her head to look at him, her eyes moist and swollen, her lip still trembling. Lucius could tell that she had been crying again.

It was their fourth morning in the hotel Magister in Ayton by the sea, and Narcissa had awoken teary eyed with every sunrise. Lucius set down the package in his hand and crossed the room quickly to sit beside her on the bed. He gathered her into his arms and kissed her unruly blonde hair. "Good morning, pet," he said to her as she shifted in his embrace to snake her arms around him. She squeezed his waist and shook her head.

"I woke up and you weren't here," she whispered. Lucius frowned at himself and kissed the top of her head again. He had gone out early this morning with a mind to returning before she woke, but his errand had taken him longer than he had expected and now she was upset with him.

"I'm sorry, dearest," he whispered, pulling her closer. He looked down at her bare back where the sheet had fallen away and watched the shaky rise and fall of her breathing. He considered himself for a moment; and he knew in that instant that he would finally be safe in making a promise to her that he had always wished he could make. "It won't happen again," he said, "I promise."

Narcissa leaned back and looked her husband in the eye. "You promise?" she almost hadn't believed her ears. Lucius had never promised her anything that he hadn't been sure he would be able to keep to.

"I do," he affirmed. "You will never again awaken to find me gone, Narcissa," he assured her. It was finally true. In all of the years of wars and struggles and estrangement and reconciliation he had never been able to promise her truly that he wouldn't be called away at any moment. Now, with the death of Lord Voldemort, and the dissolution of the Order of the Death Eaters, he was finally certain that he could spend the rest the nights of his life where Narcissa would have him be.

She sat up straight and smiled at him, brushing the tears off of her cheeks with the back of her hand. She slid from the bed and pulled her dressing gown from where she had it folded on her night table. Sliding her dressing gown over her shoulders, she tiptoed through the door beside the headboard and pulled it to. Lucius reclined against his wife's pillows as he listened to the running water from the next room. Narcissa never made a move without washing her face and brushing her teeth.

It wasn't long until she returned from her ablutions and climbed onto the bed next to him. She took his face in her hands and kissed him sweetly. "I intend to hold you to that," she told him as she pulled away. "Every morning," she added punctuating her comment with a kiss on his chin, "for the rest of my life…" she kissed him on his neck, "I shall never again," another kiss on his jaw, "awaken without my husband's company." She captured his lips with hers again, her eyes closing as she enjoyed the feeling.

"Nuryevski is in the next room," he whispered into her ear as she nipped at his jawline. She sat up straight, her eyes widening and her mouth falling open.

"Now?" she asked. Narcissa looked across the room at the clock on the mantle. It was early; barely nine o'clock, and Vladimir Nuryevski, the wandmaker Lucius had called in from St. Petersburg, was not due until this afternoon. "He's very early," she observed, pulling her dressing gown closed at the neck in a gesture indicative of the fact they had a visitor. Lucius chuckled at her subconscious motion and took her hand, pulling her down on top of him. It wasn't as though the gentleman would be letting himself into their bedroom.

"He knows he's early," Lucius assured her, wrapping his arms around her waist so that she couldn't move even if she had tried. "He'll be joining us for breakfast," he told her. Lucius rolled them over, perching himself over his wife and kissing a trail down her neck and collarbone, past the silk of her open dressing gown. It was so rare for her to fall asleep wearing nothing but her wedding rings and Lucius was more than willing to spend a moment admiring the view. Narcissa smiled up at him, but struggled lightly to get up.

"I need to get dressed," she said quietly, as though afraid of being overheard. The Malfoy house elves had been more than happy to bring their master and mistress clothes from home, and Narcissa had a new dress in her wardrobe that she was excited to wear to receive her new wand. Her face had healed nicely from where Voldemort had hit her with whatever hex he'd chosen, and she was mentally prepared to get out of bed and start living again.

Their days at the shore had been spent almost exclusively in bed; and the rest had done both of them well. Lucius' head wound had fully healed, thanks in no small part to the ministrations of the young lady at Hogwarts, and even his blackened and swollen eye had gone nearly back to normal. New wands would be enough to make them feel fully themselves again.

Lucius nuzzled his wife's neck before rolling onto his side and letting her up. "I suppose you do," he allowed. "But I look forward to getting you undressed again at the earliest opportunity," he told her as she pulled open the doors to the armoire to withdraw her under things from a drawer.

"Lucius!" she admonished. "Keep your voice down," she whispered, "what if he heard you?" Lucius stood and shook his head.

"I doubt his command of English is such that he could have understood me if he did hear," he assured her. "And I promise you that the walls are not so thin."

"I'm sure you're right, dear," she allowed, pulling on her knickers and then her camisole. "But either way, you're being mightily untoward for so early in the day."

"It's our last morning on holiday," he defended, crossing to the desk near the door to their parlor and picking up the parcel he'd left there. Narcissa slid her dress over her shoulders and turned to face the full length mirror inside of the armoire door.

"We're going home tomorrow," she remembered, examining her new dress in the mirror. It was pale blue-gray, a less intense hue than usually suited her, but she felt as though she looked rather lovely in it.

"Actually," he corrected her, "we're going to Wales tomorrow."

"To Wales?" she asked, making eye contact with his reflection. She reached onto the shelf in the armoire and withdrew a velvet box, withdrawing from it a pearl and diamond brooch. The black pearls were just a shade darker than her dress, and the white ones just a shade lighter. She pinned the brooch to her bodice as she waited for him to respond.

Lucius was frowning; this was not what he had wanted to discuss this morning. "Draco wrote me," he told his wife. Narcissa nodded as she fastened matching earrings into her ears. "Bella's funeral…" he added.

"Ah," Narcissa exhaled, still nodding. "Is it horrible of me that I had done my best to forget that the rest of the world still existed while we were here?" Lucius shook his head.

"Not at all, pet," he answered. Narcissa had quickly pinned her hair on top of her head and turned to face her husband. "Apparently Draco has handled everything and we're expected at Kidwelly tomorrow. We have only to show up."

"I doubt many people will be there," she sighed. Bellatrix had certainly died as she had lived; a villain and a killer. She had died in battle, as she would likely have chosen; but Narcissa suspected that were it not for her immediate family, no one would be present to mourn for her.

"Likely," Lucius answered, nodding his head. "But Draco has made the arrangements with the Ministry and…" Kidwelly Castle had until a century ago belonged to the Black family, but had become a less then ideal residence and such had seen it donated to the Ministry of Magic. A stipulation of the gift had been that the Black family plot continue to be maintained and Blacks had continued to be buried there as though the land was still theirs.

"I don't mind," Narcissa said to him. "I'm proud of Draco," she added. She slipped a pair of low-heeled slippers onto her feet and turned again to examine herself in the mirror.

"You're wearing your wedding jewelry," Lucius observed by way of changing the subject. Narcissa turned back to face him and nodded.

"I am," she affirmed, smiling. "New wands are a milestone," she said. "And the old ones were part of our wedding. So I wanted to have something of our wedding with me when we get the new ones… just a way to connect things. It's probably very silly of me."

"Not at all," he insisted, reaching his hand out to her. She took hold of his offered hand and stepped toward him. "I think that's beautiful," he told her. "And as I said: we will one day speak our vows again over the new ones." He pulled her into his lap. "And you've just reminded me that I've brought you something."

"You have?" she asked, turning her head to look for the first time at the package her husband had left on the desk.

"Why else would I have left my sleeping love all alone in the morning?" he asked, handing the parcel over to her.

"May I open it?" she asked.

"Of course," he allowed. Narcissa bit her lip as she pulled at the string tying the box together. She untied the bow at the top and slid the lid from the package. Pulling open the tissue paper, she reached inside and withdrew the large silver object from inside.

"It's lovely," she said to him, examining the intricate filigree and the engraving of the Malfoy family crest on the top.

"Let me show you how to open it," he said to her. "I've had it specially made," he explained, poking a sculpted rosette on the side of the box until a rod appeared behind it. Lucius withdrew the rod, and then slid another from one of the dragon-claw feet of the box. "It's a puzzle," he said, shifting the box into the cavity that pulling the foot away had left. "Not just anyone will be able to open it." He slid the top from the box, exposing a dial.

"Why would we need that?" she asked. Lucius took her hand and together they turned the dial ninety degrees. They both watched as the dial began turning the opposite direction and unscrew itself from the box.

"This box is intended for very precious contents," he answered, removing the dial and sliding open a thin layer of silver. The interior of the puzzle box was lined in blue velvet and Narcissa looked to her husband for explanation as to just what it was intended for. Lucius reached into his inner coat pocket and withdrew from it the linen handkerchief in which he had wrapped their two destroyed wands.

Narcissa took the cloth from her husband's hands and unwrapped the fragile contents. She felt her eyes beginning to fill with tears as she took the splintered remains of Lucius' wand from the handkerchief. She offered the parcel back to her husband; which he took, withdrawing the ashes that had once been her wand and letting the linen kerchief fall into his lap.

Reverently, they both placed the broken shafts onto the blue velvet lining of the box. "As victors and vanquished," Narcissa echoed the words she'd spoken on her wedding day; now with an understanding of their meaning that she could never have fathomed as a bride of nineteen.

"I love you, Narcissa," Lucius said to her, closing the box with the reverse steps he'd used to open it. "Let's see to the new wands, shall we?"

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Epilogue forthcoming... and then the story that hit me over the head yesterday. It's a weird weird weird piece that's nothing like anything I've ever written. I wrote an entire treatment for it at work yesterday and I think I'm really excited. Let me know if you want to hear about it. And let me know what you think about this chapter!!

-MQ


	13. Epilogue

**2047**

Lily shook her head and took a pronounced sip from the glass in her hand. She tenderly touched the two wands in the box she was holding and looked back at her father in law with the tears in her eyes.

"Their new wands were almost identical," Draco told her. "Birch; with grindylow, dragon, and mermaid scale cores. Nuryevski was known for custom blended wand cores," he explained. "They were able to Apparate to Kidwelly for aunt Bella's funeral. There were so many funerals…" He looked her in the eye. "Headmaster Snape had been in their wedding," he shared. "And they'd known the Crabbes since Hogwarts. Mother sent flowers to her niece's funeral; in fact, I'm pretty sure she paid the bill for her and her husband to be buried." Draco sighed and looked again at his daughter-in-law. "And they did eventually renew their wedding vows," he informed her. "Very quietly on their silver anniversary; and they didn't invite anyone. They said it wasn't because of the new wands, though I'm sure that's what started it. Mother seemed to have put the war behind her after that. But they were always very protective of these," he gestured to the box she was holding. "I'd have had it buried with them, but as I said; I couldn't get upstairs after they died."

"Because the house had been left to Scorpius?" Lily asked for clarification as she blotted at the corner of her eye with her knuckle. Draco sipped his brandy and nodded.

"Yes," he answered. "The Manor was never mine," he explained. "I had this house. My mother and her sisters grew up here. My father bought it for me from my mother's family before I was born. We had moved in here the week of our wedding. The day Scorpius was born; my father changed his will to leave the Manor to him. I was trustee until he turned seventeen, but he was already of age when my parents were killed. The house knew it wasn't mine. It was so close to your wedding date. I didn't want involve Scorpius in the funeral arrangements… he had so much else- so much more pleasant that he needed to concentrate on."

"Do you think…?" Lily began, trying to keep composed as best she could. "Do you think that Scorpius is dead?" she asked, stifling a sniffle. "If the house has suddenly opened itself up to CJ… do you think that means…?" Lily couldn't finish her sentence.

"I'm afraid so, Lily," Draco answered her. "I think that's the only explanation." Lily choked back a sob. "I could be wrong," he allowed. "I hope I'm wrong."

"I hope you're wrong, too," Lily answered him.

"You know, my father could tell you everything you might want to know about the house," Draco allowed, trying to steer the subject away from the fact that his only son was likely deceased.

"Your father?" Lily asked. She wrinkled her forehead and took another sip from her glass.

"There's a portrait of the two of them in the house, more than one frame as I recall," Draco explained. Lily shook her head.

"I've never seen it," she told him. "Is that why the empty frame in the sun room?" Draco smiled at his daughter-in-law.

"Yes," he answered her. "The winter garden, the room you call the sun room, was built over the remains of the statuary hall," he explained. "My parents loved what they did with the space; we always had breakfast there when we'd taken Scorpius for an extended stay."

"I never thought to ask a portrait," Lily admitted, shaking her head. "I don't know why it hadn't occurred to me."

"Because you didn't grow up with them," Draco posited. "You grew up in a brand new house," he reminded her. "It's very different."

"I suppose so," she replied.

"Have Cygnus show you upstairs," he suggested to her. "If he finds the door and you're with him, you should be able to see it. They're likely in the frame in their bedroom," he suggested. "Or they may be in their living room. That frame has a curtain on it," he shared. "I'm sure they're somewhere," he assured her. Lily nodded.

"I wouldn't know what to say to them," she said, looking again at the Malfoys' ruined wands in the box she was holding.

"Tell them you know their story," Draco imparted. "Tell them that you've got their wands; introduce them to their great-grandchildren…."

"Speaking of which," Lily inserted. "I should go and get them," she said. Draco withdrew his wand from his sleeve pocket and tapped the box on Lily's lap. One by one the pieces of the box replaced themselves until the final rod of silver had slid itself into place and the little rosette looked once again like a mere piece of decoration. "You want me to take this?" she asked, holding up the tarnished silver box. "Or would you like to have it here?" Draco shook his head.

"No, Lily," he answered. "Take it with you. Show the children what it was that they found. Tell them what I've told you. It's your house now; until Cygnus comes of age. And this one will be his as well; you're likely to live out your days in Malfoy Manor, and you should know all there is to know of it. Someday your grandchildren may come to you with these same questions." Lily smiled back at her father-in-law and carefully placed the box back into the satchel she'd brought it in; more careful with the sentimental artifact than she had been before. She stood and turned to leave.

"You should come to supper next week," she turned back to suggest. "If Cygnus James can get me up those stairs, then I'm sure he can get you there as well. It might do you good to see your old rooms again. And I would love to know it… as you know it, and hear more about your parents."

"I'd like that," Draco agreed, nodding his head in deference to his not standing as she left.

"Send me an owl," she encouraged, "to let me know which night will be best." Draco nodded and smiled again. Lily turned once more to leave.

She reached the door and turned to look back at him one final time. "Thank you," she said to him.

"You're welcome, Lily," he told her. She turned finally and walked through the door and into the hallway leading to the stairs.

Once alone again, Draco withdrew his handkerchief from his breast pocket and pressed it to his moist eyes. It had been years since he'd let himself think about his parents or about the war; and he remembered why. His parents survived so much in their lives only to die on their fiftieth wedding anniversary when an earthquake destroyed the hotel they were staying in. He remembered being told that their bodies were found with their heads still on a single pillow, as though they had been asleep and never known what had hit them.

He thought he's buried his memories of the war with his parents; and his feelings with his sweet wife. But he allowed himself one moment then to remember. He had loved his parents, and he had loved his son. He knew in this instant of believing his only child deceased just what pain his own mother and father had been trying to spare themselves when their wands had been destroyed.

Of all of the things an eight-year-old might have brought down from the third floor; Draco was more glad than he knew how to express that it had been his parents' silver box.

FIN

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The End... again. The next one will probably start tonight... be on the lookout. I'm having a hard time deciding on a title. It involves time travel- but I don't want to give it a cliched title. If that's the biggest problem I have today then I guess I'm doing alright.

Thanks for all of the reviews and I'd love more... that's a hint. That means you- PRETTY PLEASE. Thank you,

-MQ


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